Fervidity
by Kittenshift17
Summary: When Hermione Granger is caught by Snape she must fake her death and assume a new identity and appearance as the illegitimate daughter of Severus Snape. Going by the name Mina Graziana-Snape, Hermione must navigate this new world where she's rubbing shoulders with Death Eaters, forced to participate in revels, marked as a Death Eater herself and balancing light and dark.
1. Chapter 1: Desperation

**FULL SUMMARY:** When Hermione Granger is caught by Snape she must fake her death with Snape's help, and assume a new identity and appearance as the illegitimate and previously unbeknownst daughter of Severus Snape. Going by the name Mina Graziana-Snape, Hermione must navigate this new world where she's rubbing shoulders with Death Eaters, forced to participate in revels, marked as a Death Eater herself and doing her best to balance the dark and light warring for dominance inside her soul.

Isolated from the Order and her friends, Hermione must play the wickedly sinful and alluringly promiscuous daughter of a Death Eater just to survive. With Snape as her mentor and the only one who knows every dark truth about her and the girl she's becoming, Hermione must protect her heart on all sides. A scheming Rabastan Lestrange wants her for a wife. A werewolf Draco Malfoy is a tentative ally and possessive bedfellow. A murderous Bellatrix Lestrange seeks to end the lives of both Hermione and Severus. Fenrir Greyback is trying to overthrow the wizarding world under the Dark Lord's nose. Furious friends are baffled by how well she can play the bad girl and Hermione's stuck in the middle, trying to keep her head above water.

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 **WARNINGS: Dearest Reader,**

 **Please note that this story is the darkest, most twisted and most perverted that I have ever written. It contains TRIGGERS. I couldn't even think of them all to include them in the tags, but please be aware that if you've heard of it, it's most likely in the story. Even if you haven't heard of it, you might encounter it in this story. Basically what I'm saying is that this story is entirely fucked up and probably should never have been written but it had to be birthed from my subconscious. As such I insist upon proceeding with caution. If I upset you, I apologize in advance but you have been sufficiently warned.**

 **xx-Kitten**

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 **Winner of Wandlore's "Best Dark Fic" and "Best Death Eater Centric Story".**

* * *

 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Desperation**

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 _..."Come away little lamb, come away to the water,_

 _Give yourself so that we might live anew._

 _Come away little lamb, come away to the slaughter,_

 _To the ones appointed to see this through,_

 _We are coming for you"..._

 _-_ **Come Away To the Water (Maroon 5)**

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Hermione Granger could only surmise that she was beyond deliverance. Her cover had been blown. Her secrets exposed. Her life uprooted and irrevocably damaged. The game was up. Severus Snape had just fired a curse in her direction and Hermione's last thoughts as she lost consciousness were that it seemed entirely unfair that after so long defending the greasy git of a Professor, she would succumb to an untimely demise at his unforgiving hand.

The arms of unconsciousness embraced her lovingly; greedily; her eyelids descended sluggishly over eyes glittering with betrayal. Her laboured breathing gave way to the slow and almost peaceful aspirations of an induced slumber and she slipped into darkness.

When she awoke sometime later, Hermione deemed herself confused. She blinked slowly, her mind was slothful, and an ache permeated her abused and half-starved form. Dimly she was aware that she appeared to have been transported to some dilapidated structure and that she was lying on the cold hard floor. Wherever it was, it was dark and damp and there was an insidious chill that seeped into her bones, robbing her of her strength.

"Where am I?" she asked herself, unable to focus long enough to note the heavily cloaked figure standing in the corner of the room, silently scrutinizing her. She gasped in pain, air hissing between her teeth at the sudden agony she found when she tried to raise her prone form into a sitting position. Every fibre of her being ached.

"Harry?" she asked, for her friends and travelling companions, suddenly recalling the attack of the Death Eaters, "Ron? Oh Merlin, where are they? What's happened to them?"

The silent figure looked on disaffectedly as the young witch tried to regain her bearings and her undeniable wits. He was impressed with her ability to have roused so quickly from the curses he had inflicted upon her and begrudgingly he found himself curling his lip at the persistent and concerned muttering regarding her former companions that passed her cracked and bleeding lips. Her distress over their possible fates was obvious and it sought to enrage him that even when her own life was in mortal peril she clung to her disgustingly Gryffindor scruples. Her gasp of pain did nothing to cease her movements and he watched stoically as she dragged herself into a sitting position, releasing several little whimpers of pain and grunts of effort that seemed to escape her notice. She shook her head several times, as though attempting to clear it of the fogginess his curse had inspired and he allowed himself a momentary cruel smile.

"Miss Granger, so kind of you to once again grace us with your presence," he sneered when he grew tired of watching her struggle, her failure to notice his imposing form seeking only to vex him further. She reacted with immediate violence at the sound of his voice so close to her prone form, her hand diving for the wand he'd removed from her person some minutes earlier.

"You bastard, give me back my wand, Snape!" she snarled when she failed to locate it, though her eyes had yet to focus on him and Severus Snape found himself momentarily intrigued to discover she knew him by voice alone.

That was most interesting indeed.

"You'll pay for all you've done, Snape. If it's the last thing I do, I'll see you pay!" she threatened darkly, scrabbling to her feet. Severus watched the way she swayed precariously yet refused to clutch at her undoubtedly spinning head. Foolish child. "What have you done with Harry and Ron?"

"Your little friends are beyond your ability to save, Miss Granger. Desist your incessant prattle and pay very close attention."

Hermione flinched back when Snape lunged at her, his unforgiving hands closing tightly around her emaciated wrists and searing her with their icy burn. She chose to ignore the fact that his hold had prevented her from falling to her knees as her head swam with a heavy fog she seemed unable to shake.

"Harry Potter and Ron Weasley have been taken captive by the Dark Lord's followers, Miss Granger," Snape warned her, "By now, I do not doubt that Potter will be being tortured to near insanity. Weasley has undoubtedly been disposed of."

"You liar!" Hermione snarled, her heart clenching inside her aching chest at the very thought of the news he was delivering. She twisted her wrists violently in his hold, trying desperately to free them so she could strike out at the man who had murdered Albus Dumbledore. She wanted to claw his judgemental black eyes out of his greasy, sunken face.

"Enough!" Snape hissed furiously, bringing his face so close to hers that his hooked nose stabbed unyieldingly against her own pert one, "They are gone Miss Granger! The Dark Lord will undoubtedly make a big show of murdering Potter, but Weasley is little more than a pawn to him and as easily sacrificed. They are dead."

"Why have you brought me here?" Hermione demanded, her eyes wide and horrified now, sparkling with an anger that simmered deep in her gut and made her whole body tremble with its ferocity. She didn't want to believe he was telling the truth. She couldn't bear the thought of Harry and Ron being tortured.

Of them being dead.

"Because despite everything you have been led to believe, I am not the enemy. I have remained faithful to the Order and everything I have done up until now has been on the instruction of Albus Dumbledore. However, not even his brilliant mind was able to foresee this turn of events. Your friends are as good as dead, Miss Granger, unless there is something I can do to rescue Potter without exposing everything I have worked so hard to achieve. And you are a problem."

"Excuse me?" Hermione demanded, her temper flaring brightly inside her slowly cracking soul, "After you murdered Dumbledore, you expect me to just believe a word you say?"

"I expect you to use your not-entirely-dis-countable intellect to realize that you are in mortal danger. Besides Potter, you are the Dark Lord's biggest threat. You are the brains behind everything Potter and Weasley have achieved to date. You are going to be his biggest target. I am here to tell you that I have a solution to that problem," Snape informed her coldly and Hermione felt goose-pimples spread across her skin at the utter conviction in his constantly-sneering tone. How dare he sound so self-possessed when she felt her entire reality beginning to splinter? Chips of her sanity began flaking away, crumbling at the edges and making her tremble.

She had to place a hand to her clammy cheek just to talk herself out of the belief that the walls had already begun to close in around her, locking her in this terrible darkness.

"You think I'm going to trust you? After everything you've done? You just expect me to believe Dumbledore wanted you to kill him? Why should I believe a word you say?" Hermione challenged. Her heart and mind were racing with fear for her friends and she had yet to even truly think about the implications for herself should she lose Harry and Ron. The walls slid closer at the brief moment of acknowledgement of that possibility.

"You do not have a choice," Snape informed her, "Until such time as you become useful to my continued cause, or until this war is over, you are dead, Miss Granger. Do you understand me? Your mangled body will be brought before the Dark Lord as proof of your death and you will cease to exist to the friends and loved ones you will leave behind."

"You're going to kill me?" Hermione asked, her voice betraying the fear that was leaking through her blood, poisoning her limbs and stilling her thoughts.

"In every sense but the most literal one, Miss Granger," Snape promised, a dark gleam in his fathomless eyes. Hermione felt a chill of fear claw it's icy, ragged way up her spine as she realised she was currently being asked to place her trust in an entirely ruthless and unscrupulous man with a dark past and blood on his hands.

Hermione's heart began to race painfully fast with indecision.

"You're going to fake my death? To kill some other poor girl who looks like me and then what? What do you mean to do with the real me?" Hermione wanted to know. She hated herself just a little bit over the idea of be willing to even voice such an idea when it meant the innocent life of some unsuspecting girl would be sacrificed for her.

"The real you will be hidden away beyond the sight and thought of the Dark Lord. All will believe you to be dead Miss Granger, but for the person I mean to leave in charge of your continued secret existence."

"Who?" Hermione wanted to know, "Wouldn't it be easier to just let me go?"

"No. If I release you the Dark Lord will eventually learn of your survival. He will hunt down every member of the Order he can find, fizzling out every last breath of resistance to his cause. And he will not truly believe you are dead unless the rest of the Order rises up in their fury over the deaths of yourself and Mr Weasley, and the public execution of Harry Potter."

"Please tell me you've put a similar plan in place to save Ron?" Hermione begged him, realising the true gravity of the situation.

"Unfortunately Mr Weasley was pursued by other members of the Death Eater brethren, as was Mr Potter. They are not forgiving men, Miss Granger. I believe Fenrir Greyback went after him personally. If Mr Weasley is not already dead, I expect he will be praying that he were. Now, gather yourself together and remove those clothes."

Hermione's eyes bulged in horror before she realised what he meant to do. He turned his back to give her the privacy to strip out of the torn and dirty muggle clothing she'd been wearing for what felt like months. She bit her lip with indecision over the notion of trusting him before she realised she had no other choice. He could very well drag her before Voldemort and the other Death Eaters and leave her to her fate. Or she could give him the benefit of the doubt in the vain hope that if she played along for long enough she might be able to trick him into slipping up and so escape his captivity.

"What do you expect me to put on in place of these?" Hermione asked, pulling her jumper off over her head. She startled when Snape handed her a tasteful set of robes. They were heavy winter robes and looked as though they'd been tailor made to fir her. The most striking part of the outfit was the long velvet cloak with a deep hood in a brilliant shade of emerald green that reminded her of Harry's eyes.

She dressed hurriedly, shivering when the cold winter breeze ghosted over her bared flesh, prickling the hairs and making her yearn for the warmth of the Gryffindor common room at Hogwarts. It was an unpleasant feeling, one that didn't entirely leave her even when she was ensconced away in the robes he'd provided her.

"What would you like me to do with my discarded clothing?" she asked of Snape when she was fully garbed.

"I will require them and a few strands of your hair Miss Granger," he told her, turning towards her when Hermione was appropriately robed once more.

"You mean to use Polyjuice potion on the girl you intend to murder?" she asked scathingly, a bitter taste waltzing its way across her tongue at the very mention of murder.

"You would do well to remove that judgemental tone from your voice Miss Granger," Snape warned her, curling his lip forebodingly, "In the coming weeks you will be exposed to far fouler things than myself."

"Excuse me?" Hermione demanded, placing her hand on her hips.

"Drink this," Snape told her, holding out a phial of syrupy liquid. She suspected from the way he curled his lip in annoyance that he believed she doubted there was anything fouler than him. If it weren't for the crushing gravity of the situation Hermione might've giggled at his indignation.

"What is it?" Hermione asked seriously, eyeing it in horror as she accepted the phial.

"This is a potion that will temporarily alter your defining features to make you appear like someone else. It is a deviation of the Polyjuice potion with longer lasting effects. Things that define you, such as your terribly frizzy hair, will be transformed into sleek, smooth curls. It does not entirely remove your features and replace them with another's. Instead it morphs what you already have into something unrecognizable unless one looks very closely indeed. The effects of this one will last for three months. After that I will supply you another if the need arises."

"You mean to hide me in plain sight," Hermione realized suddenly, "Do you really think that the Death Eaters won't recognize me. Even if we alter my appearance, I'll still look like myself."

"Not for long. Drink that and I'll show you," Snape ordered, pointing indicatively at the phial he'd given her.

Hermione hesitated for only a moment, indecision warring inside her soul and gnawing at the edges of her sanity. She had trusted Snape during the past years even when the boys had not. And she had been burned for that trust.

"Will you return my wand to me?" Hermione wanted to know before even considering the idea of unstoppering the phial.

"In good time. Once you consume that potion I will escort you to the temporary sanctuary where you will hide until I require your assistance," Snape informed her, beginning to look impatient with her continued delays.

Clamping down tightly on her misgivings in favour of seeing where this would take her, Hermione unstoppered the phial and down the contents in one gulp, shuddering at the bitter flavour of the potion inside. It wasn't as bad as Polyjuice potion but it still tasted like goblin piss. She shivered when a tingle washed over her, racing through her body, warming her limbs and making her fingers and toes prickle uncomfortably.

"Would you care to see your new appearance Miss Granger?" Snape asked her, eyeing her speculatively in a way Hermione had never seen anyone else study her. He made her feel like some kind of experiment he'd cooked up in a Potions lab and Hermione narrowed her eyes before reaching into the beaded bag swinging from her wrist. She withdrew a hand mirror slowly, holding it out to Snape and waiting for him to enlarge it so she could take in the full realm of the changes the potion and new robes had yielded within her.

She was entirely shocked by what she saw. She barely recognized herself. In the place of her usual self was a changed witch. There was an unintentional poise to her body now, a particular type of sinewy, regal grace she had lacked without the potion. Her hair was the most obvious change. Where before her dirt-brown hair had been lacklustre, frizzy and frayed, now it was entirely transformed. The curls tumbled down her back in coffee-coloured swirls, sleek and smooth in perfect ringlets. Hermione's face seemed different too. Her skin seemed clearer, a fresh peaches and cream shade that was most becoming. Her lips seemed to hold more of a sensual pout than they ever had before, her jaw line slightly more defined and her cheekbones appearing so sharp they could cut glass.

The only similarity Hermione could really see to her former appearance was the honey-cinnamon shade of her eyes, sparkling with intelligence and just a glimmer of fear.

"What exactly did that potion do?" Hermione wanted to know, eyeing the sensually inviting dip of her waist beneath the fitted robes Snape had given her.

"It's designed to smooth away imperfections and to bring out the very best qualities within a particular person based on their natural genetic make-up," Snape told her and Hermione caught the flash of impatience in his dark eyes over the notion of her asking such a question at such a time.

"And what exactly is my cover to be?" Hermione wanted to know, meeting the dark gaze of the current Hogwarts Headmaster.

"That is where I must ask you to sacrifice a portion of your dignity, Miss Granger," Snape answered honestly, looking at her shrewdly amid the dim lighting of the shack where she was currently being held prisoner.

"Oh Merlin," Hermione sighed, "What are you going to have me do?"

"The most feasible option that will offer you the largest portion of protection and an explanation as to your apparently recent addition to the ranks of wizarding Britain would be to have you pretend that you are my illegitimate daughter, recently orphaned of your mother and so shipped here to live with me."

Hermione stared at Snape in horror, her eyes wide with alarm.

"You... you want me to pretend you're my father?" Hermione repeated stupidly, feeling like she might be losing her grip on reality after all, "You want to tell people I'm your kid? Have you lost your mind? How would you explain me being eighteen and only just seeking you out? How would you explain not knowing about me until now?"

"Do you speak any languages other than English?" Snape asked seriously though Hermione noticed the way the man bristled at her obvious horror over the idea of him being anyone's father.

"French, Italian, some Gobbledegook and a little Mandarin," Hermione replied factually, offering up a full platter of her language skills.

"I think it would be wise to pretend you were raised in Italy with your mother. We can make up some lie about me meeting and subsequently impregnating your mother when she travelled over here at the end of her own schooling. That would explain why you are not on the listing for Hogwarts students. As for my lack of knowledge of your existence, I suspect my brethren and indeed everyone will have little trouble believing your mother didn't want anything to do with me after one night."

Hermione marvelled over his ability to sound utterly deadpan and yet also alarmingly bitter simultaneously.

"I'm not calling you 'Dad'," Hermione warned him, surmising that as far as explanations went it was a decent one. She chose not to mention the unlikeliness of any witch lowering herself so much as to sleep with someone so unpleasant in both personality and appearance.

"No, that wouldn't do. To effectively achieve this you will have to practice at calling me Severus or Father, slip-ups with either will lend a believability to your lack of knowledge of my existence until your mother's untimely death," he answered dryly.

"Don't you think they will find it suspicious if you return with a body that is supposedly mine, along with the actual me in tow?"

"Leave that to me, for now wait here while I retrieve a body we can pass off as being yours," he instructed.

"Can I have my wand back?" Hermione asked when he began walking out with it.

"No," he replied shooting her a dark look, "If I give it back you'll be gone before I get back."

Hermione hated the man all the more for seeing right through her ploy.


	2. Chapter 2: Integration

**A/N: Ah! I'm so pleased you liked the first chapter and that you've decided to read on despite the warnings. *happy dancing*. I do so hope you'll all stick with me on this fic all the way through to the end. I feel I should warn you that you're in for a long haul with this one, as there are lots of chapters to come that are utter monsters. Don't forget to pop me a review at the bottom with your thoughts!**

 **Much love! xx-Kitten.**

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 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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 **Chapter 2: Integration**

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 _... "I've been drafted into your war,_

 _I feel shafted waking up on your floor, once again._

 _You were looking for another way out, tried to fix these broken things._

 _All we had were fragments._

 _You are stumbling a new way down, falling on your broken wings._

 _All we had were fragments"..._

\- **Fragments (Jaymes Young)**

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When Snape returned more than an hour later Hermione was pacing nervously about the shack. He carried the body of a muggle girl slung over his shoulder. She was already similar in appearance to Hermione herself, her hair dark and curly, her body type the same; the muggle even had the emaciation issues Hermione was facing as a result of the food scarcity she'd been living with for months. Hermione realised with a jolt that she'd been given the Polyjuice Potion before he'd murdered her, hence their identical appearance.

Confliction over the girl's death warred within her, but Hermione knew it was too late. She was already dead. Snape had clearly realised Hermione would object to the idea of anyone dying for her if she had to witness the sacrifice. Silently she vowed to herself that she wouldn't allow the girl's death to be in vain. She would avenge her, just as she would avenge the death of all others who had died during this war. She would bring Voldemort down from the inside and see him vanquished.

"How are you going to keep her looking enough like me to pull this off?" Hermione asked, "Polyjuice potion will only make her look like me for a few hours."

"A few hours is all we'll be needing," Snape answered, "After he is convinced that this is the body of Hermione Granger, he will most likely feed it to Nagini."

Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"What shall we tell people my name is?" Hermione asked.

"That's up to you. Choose something that will be easy to remember. Something close to the sound of your current name that you will answer to should you be addressed by it, but nothing that will give away your true identity," he told her sternly, his unnerving black eyed fixed upon her scrutinisingly.

"Mina," Hermione said quietly, "Sometimes Harry and Ron get lazy with my name and call me 'Mione. I'm used to answering to it. Mina Graziani. Daughter of Carolina Graziana and Severus Snape. Seventh year student transferring to Hogwarts where my biological father is the current Headmaster as a result of my mother's untimely death. How do you propose to explain my age? I'm already eighteen, therefore according to wizarding law I am legally an adult and do not require your guardianship."

"What is one more lie in this finely spun web?" Snape put to her and Hermione supposed that really said it all.

Shrugging her shoulders, Hermione resolved to try and act a little more like an innocent sixteen year old rather than a war-hardened eighteen year old witch who may or may not have lost both of her best friends.

"Very well. If anyone asks I am sixteen and have recently lost my mother, thereby being shipped to the only other legal guardian listed for me on my birth certificate," Hermione replied before pursing her lips, "What do you mean to do with me until such time as my appearance won't arouse suspicion?"

"I will be taking this girl who looks like you to the Dark Lord momentarily. You will also be accompanying me to Malfoy Manor where the Dark Lord currently resides. I will introduce you to the Dark Lord and my brethren as being my daughter, recently arrived on my doorstep and an undoubted surprise to all involved."

"You don't think it will be obvious to everyone who I am if you turn up with the dead fake me and the alive real me in tow?" Hermione questioned his logic.

"I think revealing your existence later will be a mistake. If the Dark Lord asks, you sought me out last week and have been residing in my home with me until today, recovering for the sudden and unexpected loss of your mother. I will inform him of this as well, noting that I have been distracted this past week as a result. When he asks why I have brought you with me, you will be expected to play along with the idea that you were with me when I was summoned for this mission, and as such must now meet the Dark Lord."

"You want to parade me around in plain sight for anyone to see?" Hermione asked in a strangled voice.

"Anything else would rouse more suspicions from those among the Death Eaters who still doubt my loyalty to the Dark Lord. If they think I have performed this switch, they wold expect me to hide you away for a few weeks to come up with a plan. I have seen your acting skills in the past and am trusting your skills with deception and with magic to pull this off. Do you understand? If you fail, we will both be revealed and all chance of rescuing Harry Potter and any hope of defeating the Dark Lord will be lost," Snape told her gravely, his black eyes boring into hers seriously.

"I understand," Hermione replied.

"You will be exposed to some of the foulest men and women currently among our race, Miss Granger, and while some leeway will be granted over your shock, the less you seem like Hermione Granger the better."

"You expect me to perform Dark Magic and condone the actions of others who do the same?" Hermione demanded, her eyes narrowing hatefully.

"That and much more," Snape replied, "It may very well be that when we return to Malfoy Manor, your two closest friends will be being tortured if they are not already dead. And I expect you to stand stoically and do nothing to interfere with their fate without my instruction. I expect you to be able to play the part of the daughter of a Death Eater like me. You need not seem too much like me, given that our tale suggests you only learned of my existence, and I of yours, last week. However, some small similarities would go a long way towards smoothing this transition"

"You want me to put my life in the hands of a murderer?" Hermione growled, "You expect me to just trust everything you say, at the expense of my friends and my propriety?"

"I expect you to realise you have two choices," Snape retorted coldly, "Die at the hands of the Dark Lord in some valiant but fruitless attempt to save your friends today, or bide your time until I can assist you in rescuing Potter and perhaps Weasley."

"How will I just stand there unaffected if they're being tortured?" Hermione wanted to know, doubting her ability to do so.

"By recognising that if you do not, you guarantee not only your own demise, but the prolonged and torturous end to their lives too. It will not be easy Miss Granger, but you must do so. Do you understand?"

Hermione gnawed her lip, looking away from his cold gaze to the dead girl sprawled on the floor at her feet. She didn't know this girl, despite how she currently looked like Hermione. She also couldn't say she was particularly horrified by the girl's death. Oh, she was saddened to be sure, but with her mind focusing on her own survival and the possible demise of her two closest friends, Hermione couldn't truthfully say she valued the life of the girl at her feet over her own. She hated herself a little for that truth, but there was little to be done about it now. It wasn't as though there was any way to return her to life.

"I understand," Hermione replied finally, squaring her shoulders and meeting Snape's gaze once more. She simply had to allow logic to smother out any sense of emotional response or reasoning. Logically it made little sense for her to also go to her death by failing to save her friends. She could do more to help them with Snape's instruction than she could by dying today.

"Do no misunderstand me," he warned, "This will the hardest year – perhaps years - of your life. Who you are as Hermione Jean Granger will die with her."

He pointed to the dead girl at their feet.

"You will not display any of the former traits you expressed as Hermione Granger. You are now Mina Graziani-Snape and she is not a book-worm, know-it-all with poor dress sense and an unwaverable sense of right and wrong. You will be rubbing shoulders with Dark wizards. You will be asked to perform terrible deeds in the name of maintaining this façade. As I have done. From here on out you are Mina Graziani; the illegitimate daughter of Severus Snape and you will be expected to act accordingly. Do you know Occlumency?"

Hermione held his gaze.

"Some. I've been practicing since you were teaching Harry in our fifth year," she admitted, "Though I've had no one to practice the spells with."

"If we live through the afternoon, I will tutor you in the art," Snape promised, "Now steel yourself to what is to come."

He bent down, slinging the dead body of the girl who looked like Hermione Granger over his shoulder before standing straight once more.

He fished her wand out of his pocket and handed it to her, before offering her his arm, clearly meaning to apparate the three of them to Malfoy Manor.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Hermione took the arm of devil and let him sweep her away.


	3. Chapter 3: Confrontation

**A/N: Thanks ever so much for the reviews, I'm pleased you all like what I've got so far.**

 ** _This chapter contains a trigger warning for death and torture_. **

**Don't forget to tell me what you think in that inviting review box down the bottom *nudges you hopefully whilst offering cookies* Much love!**

 **xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Confrontation**

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 _... "I am holding on, my finger on the pulse,_

 _The sound of my heart pounding tells me there's still hope._

 _But people don't like when you put up a fight,_

 _And slowly, ever so slowly, I am losing mine._

 _I'll fight, fight, fight, or be taken out alive"..._

\- **Fight (Icon for Hire)**

* * *

They landed outside the gates of the most impressive structure other than Hogwarts that Hermione had ever laid eyes upon. And that was saying something given that in her youth her parents had ensured she fostered a deep love of architecture and often took her on trips around the globe look upon such fine infrastructure.

"Do not speak without my permission," Snape warned her, shaking her grip off his arm as soon as they were through the gates.

Malfoy Manor was a dark and foreboding mansion that she imagined had been even grander when it wasn't shrouded in Dark Magic. Overhead, storm clouds gathered and thunder boomed ominously. The scraping rooftops of the towers and turrets that made up the structure stabbed viciously at the pregnant rain clouds, threatening to slice them open and unleash the downpour.

Hermione hurried after Snape, hiding her surprise at the sight of the impressive building quickly in favour of keeping her wits about her. She kept her wand clutched in her hand, hidden inside her sleeve but ready to use at a moment's notice if she needed it. Snape was silent as he led her up the long drive, the dead body of the girl who looked like Hermione Granger draped over his shoulder as though it weighed nothing. Hermione's own frizzy hair swayed and dancing in time with his movements and she found it entirely alarming to be looking at her dead body whilst still being alive. Anticipation and fear coiled inside her belly as the looming Manor towered over her but Hermione didn't show it. Instead she clutched her wand a little tighter, took another calming breath, and followed the man she was pretending was her sire into the house and through the many winding corridors.

It took much of her restraint to keep from marvelling at the enormous foyer and the long, lavishly decorated corridors. Hermione wondered how the Malfoy family felt to have Voldemort using their house as his fortress. Did they object to having such unsavoury characters crossing the threshold? Did they disdain having bodies dragged in, as her own was currently being drug, to be handed over to the Dark Lord?

Before she could contemplate it further, Hermione was lead into what was once probably a lavish dining room or perhaps a ballroom. Fear clawed at her psyche when she saw the number of Death Eaters gathered in the hall. Her eyes danced over the blonde haired Malfoy's; past those Death Eaters who'd been rescued from Azkaban; Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange among them. Fenrir Greyback prowled like a caged animal over a small section of floor by the fire. Dolohov, Yaxley, Scabior, Crabbe Snr., Goyle and Nott were there too. Among them were even more dark witches and wizards Hermione didn't know by appearance and she went on high alert as she followed Snape into their midst. Voldemort was terrible to behold. He exuded power as he paced distractedly at the head of the room before what appeared to be a throne.

His attention was drawn to the sound of Snape's footsteps as they entered and Snape ignored his brethren as he headed for the Dark Lord with Hermione Granger's body thrown over his shoulder. When he gave her no instruction of what to do, Hermione simply followed after him in silence, her head held high. She wondered if she looked as fearless as she was trying to portray.

"Ah, Severus," the Dark Lord greeted him with a terrible smile. His crimson eyes were heart-stoppingly awful to behold and Hermione tried not to stare at his unusual snake-like appearance.

"My Lord," Snape replied grimly.

"We had begun to worry, my friend," the Dark Lord chastised Snape lightly though Hermione could tell they'd worried not that he'd been killed, but that they had been betrayed.

"There were some complications with my task, my Lord," Snape offered, flicking his gaze towards her.

"You've brought me a gift?" Voldemort said, his eyes fixed on the dead body over the Potions master's shoulder.

"Indeed," Snape replied dryly.

Hermione flinched minutely when he tossed the body carelessly to the ground, somehow causing it to land in such a way that her facial features were revealed.

"Hermione Granger," Snape said indifferently.

"You killed her?" the Dark Lord asked gleefully, "Ah Severus, I had begun to think you were going soft."

Hermione looked on in horror when the barefooted man toed the hair away from the face of the girl on the floor.

"Hermione Granger is dead!" he shouted smugly and the cheer from among the Death Eaters was resounding.

"HERMIONE!" someone screamed raggedly, and Hermione looked for the owner of the voice.

Her stomach twisted painfully when she saw Ron. He was beaten and bloody, his face barely recognizable. He was dangling from his wrists, chained to the ceiling in the corner, his feet barely skimming the ground.

He screamed at the sight of her dead body, his eyes fixed on the girl on the floor.

Hermione quaked where she stood, every fibre of her being demanding she spring into action to save him; to relive him of the pain her supposed death was causing. Before she could, Hermione felt a tiny pinprick of pain in her hand and she glanced down at it in confusion. Snape held something small and wickedly sharp, just big enough to be concealed inside his palm. And he'd just stabbed her with it. Hermione narrowed her eyes in annoyance before realizing he'd stabbed her with the tip to keep her from giving them away.

"What a disgusting display," Voldemort said, eyeing Ron with viciousness, "A pureblood lowering himself to sob over the death of a mudblood."

He clucked his tongue disapprovingly and the catcalls from the Death Eaters began, jeering at Ron's pain, celebrating her apparent death. Revelling in the anguish it caused Ron.

"How long do you think it will take him to give up?" Voldemort asked conversationally of Snape as though they weren't talking about someone's heartbreak and someone else's death.

"Not long, my Lord," Snape replied coldly, completely disaffected by Ron's howling rage and pain.

"And who might we have here?" Voldemort asked, clearly dismissing Ron in favour of turning his attention to Hermione.

"My daughter," Snape replied in an almost offhand way.

"You have children, Severus?" Voldemort asked, clearly surprised.

"Someone lowered themselves to fuck him?" Bellatrix Lestrange asked in a horrified and derogatory tone.

"It would seem as though I do, my Lord," Snape answered, ignoring Bellatrix, "I had no idea until she turned up on my doorstep last week. Her mother died."

"How fascinating," Voldemort mused, his red eyes fixed upon her speculatively, "Does she have a name?"

"Mina," Snape replied, "Mina Graziani-Snape. She's Italian. Until last week she lived in Italy with her mother."

"Mina Graziani?" Voldemort asked and Hermione glanced up at him, being sure to avoid making eye contact lest he use Legilimens on her. She glanced towards Snape in askance of whether she should speak. He nodded almost unperceptively, indicating she should answer Voldemort

"Si?" she asked, adopting a mild Italian accent and speaking the language, "Oh, um, I mean yes?"

Hermione looked at her feet, pretending to be embarrassed about the supposed language slip-up.

"You are Snape's child?" Voldemort asked suspiciously.

"Yes, my Lord," Hermione whispered, fearful the tone of her voice would give away her identity though she didn't recall ever speaking to Voldemort or in fact anyone in the room except for Snape, as well as Lucius and Draco Malfoy.

"How Severus?" Voldemort wanted to know and Hermione felt very much like a hunk of meat when the terrible wizard began to circle her like a vulture, contemplating her from every angle.

"A teenage dalliance," Snape shrugged as though that were explanation enough, "Her mother never told me she'd been born."

"Yet you believe she is telling the truth," Voldemort said, though he didn't at all phrase it like a question, as though he was certain of Snape's thoughts, "There is very little resemblance."

"Small mercies, my Lord," Snape answered tightly and Hermione bit her lip.

Adopting the role of a doting daughter she flashed him a little smile, reaching over and taking the teacher's hand to give it a little squeeze of reassurance.

"Indeed," Voldemort agreed about Snape's less than fortunate appearance and the other Death Eaters gathered in the hall tittered with amusement as though on cue, "Her timing seems suspicious, Severus?"

"I know," Snape sighed, "She's been staying with me since she arrived last week and she was with me when I received your summons. I decided it was time to introduce her to you."

"Intriguing," Voldemort muttered, and Hermione tightened the grip she still had on Snape's hand when the snake-like dark wizard trailed the knuckles of his left hand down her right cheek. She sensed that he was trying to convince her to glare at him; to force her to meet his gaze and so more effectively use Legilimens on her. As it was she could feel the subtle invasion attempts he was mounting on her mind and Hermione thought very hard about an enormous mirror, reflecting only his own thoughts back to him.

"Is she his daughter, my Lord?" Bellatrix Lestrange asked when Voldemort pulled back several minutes later having gained nothing from her but a sense of grief and lingering fear over being in his presence.

"It would seem so," Voldemort replied evenly, and Hermione refused to meet his gaze though she could feel his continued attention.

"Finally," Bellatrix practically hummed with delight and Hermione glanced in her direction as a slow, gloating smile spread across the wicked witch's face, "He finally has a weakness. Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione threw up a shield immediately as the woman uttered the word weakness. Snape dropped her hand, conjuring a shield charm between Hermione and the jet of green light that came hurtling for her. In truth the shield charms would have little effect as they didn't work to block the Unforgiveable. Side-stepping the jet of light and splitting off slightly from Snape, Hermione felt anger blossom inside her soul, writhing like some feral beast beneath her skin. She'd never practiced the Dark Arts before that moment.

She wondered what it said about her that her lack of practice or experience with casting dark curses didn't show.

"Avada Kedavra!" Hermione snarled right back, twirling her wand wildly, her eyes fixed on the raven-haired witch.

The vile woman was much too quick with her own shield charm and some fast footwork to succumb to the spell, but she seemed shocked by the entirely vicious and relentless response she received from Hermione. Hermione also refused to simply stop at one curse. She might not yet have mastered non-verbal magic to the point where she could use the Unforgivables without a sound, but there were many more spells in her repertoire that could be put to effective use. All of Hermione's fury over the way the Death Eaters had reacted to her supposedly dead body; all the rage over their treatment of Ron and her inability to help him; all the simmering anger she had been bottling up whilst handling Voldemort's horcrux and being on the run poured forth in a surprising display of dark and ruthless magic.

Spell after spell shot from Hermione's wand, her attention and cruel intentions riveted on Bellatrix Lestrange.

"My, Severus, but she is fast," Hermione heard the Dark Lord commend almost gleefully. Bellatrix was firing off spells of her own, attempting to use the Cruciatus curse on Hermione but Hermione had been training with Ron and Harry almost incessantly whenever they had free time and energy to spare whilst on the run. If there was one thing she had mastered, it was how to maintain a shield charm and dodge dangerous spells whilst shooting off rapid-fire curses of her own.

"Avada Kedavra," Bellatrix tried again and Hermione felt a ruthless sense of glee when the spell missed her by inches and instead collided with one of the many Death Eaters in the room. He fell to the ground dead and all Hermione could think was that he was one less bastard to torment the Order.

Hermione managed to hit the distracted witch with a spell designed to boil her blood and she felt a sense of triumph when the bitch cried out. Bellatrix stumbled back a step, her once beautiful face rapidly turning splotchy and red.

"Cruico!" Bellatrix hissed through gritted teeth.

Again, Hermione's side-stepped, though just barely.

"Avada Kedavra!" Hermione spat in return, firing her wand at the woman ruthlessly. The bright green of the spell burst from the end of Hermione's wand, speeding towards the witch. Bellatrix shrieked when her husband snatched his wife out of the spell's path before blocking the Slicing hex Hermione aimed at the woman as she tripped, her rapidly boiling blood causing dizziness and loss of motor function.

"ENOUGH!" Voldemort snapped when Rodolphus Lestrange looked like he meant to attempt killing Hermione as well.

Rodolphus lowered his wand immediately and Hermione levelled a glare at the man and his nutty wife though she too desisted her attack.

"My Lord?" Rodolphus asked, flicking his eyes towards his wife.

"She will suffer a while longer, Rodolphus, my friend," the Dark Lord purred as he eyed Bellatrix's rapidly deteriorating form. She had fallen to her knees and was flailing in agony, "Perhaps our dear Bella will not be so quick to underestimate her opponents in future."

Snape's hand clamped over Hermione's tightly, tugging her slightly closer to him until she was well inside his personal space, practically tucked under his arm though he did not relinquish his grip on her wand hand. He levelled her a stern glare but Hermione refused to look repentant.

"Mina Graziana," the Dark Lord purred and Snape's eyes warned her to be careful. She had, after all, just managed to barely survive a duel with one of Voldemort's most loyal generals and inadvertently caused the death of another of his marked followers.

"My Lord?" Hermione asked softly in return, flicking her gaze to the dark wizard before looking at something over his right shoulder to keep from showing insubordination by meeting his gaze.

"What spell did you use on our dear Bellatrix?" the evil creature purred and Hermione could tell he approved of her behaviour as Bellatrix began to shriek as though she was under the effects of the Cruciatus.

"One of my own making, my Lord," Hermione replied evenly. She hadn't meant to ever use the spell for this purpose, of course. She had invented a blood warming charm to heal herself, Harry and Ron whilst on the run. An all over warming charm required a lot of energy and frequent re-application. A spell that heated the blood instead warmed the body with less magic required, but was more dangerous. Misuse or over-zealous casting could result in the pain Bellatrix currently suffered.

"Indeed?" the Dark Lord sounded intrigued, "Do tell us then, what currently ails her?"

"Her blood is boiling, my Lord. Soon it will reach its pinnacle and her brain will melt," Hermione was entirely pleased with herself over the fate of the woman and also over her entirely analytical and nonplussed answer. She was doing her damnedest to channel her inner-Snape (if she had one) and as such was going for the deadpan tone he so often used in the face of such things.

"Remarkable," the Dark Lord complimented, "Perhaps she is more like you than anticipated, Severus,"

"Yes, my Lord," Snape replied, eyeing her carefully. Hermione thought she caught a hint of pride glittering in the black depths of his gaze, though whether it was fabricated for the audience or genuine, Hermione didn't know.

"My Lord?" Rodolphus Lestrange asked again, sounding mildly concerned this time as his wife's shrieks began to waiver towards simple whimpering.

"The counter-curse, Miss Graziana?" Voldemort appealed to Hermione.

"Counter-curse, my Lord?" Hermione asked, affecting a look of consternation, "Apologies my Lord, but I design my curses with the intention of seeing my victims suffer. Not for offering mercy from my clutches. There is no counter-curse."

Voldemort laughed and Hermione tamped down the shudder of horror that tried to wrack her frame in favour of sharing a small smile with the evil creature.

"She is doomed then?" he asked a moment later and Hermione caught the glitter in his red eyes that suggested she would meet the same fate if that were the case.

"I'm sure that a powerful cooling charm might be of some use, my Lord," Hermione offered, tight-lipped, her smile disappearing just as quickly as Voldemort's. Rodolphus knelt next to his wife, muttering the magic quickly. Her whimpering lessened, but whether that was as a result of relief from the pain or if she had succumbed to the spell too much to feel any further pain was unclear.

"Mina," the Dark Lord warned her, "If another of my loyal Death Eaters meets death this evening as a result of your presence here, I will be most displeased."

Hermione nodded, narrowing her eyes a little before glancing at Snape in askance.

"My Lord, perhaps I..." Severus began but the Dark Lord cut him off, holding up his hand.

"While her ruthlessness is admirable in not designing the counter-curse, Severus, I am displeased about this. She caused this. She will fix it. Or feel my wrath."

"Ah," Hermione sighed, slipping further into the character of Mina Graziana, "Justice at work. Bitch tries to kill me and I find her life in my own hands. How unfortunate that it must slip through my fingers. _This time_."

She smirked a little when several of the Death Eaters heard her comment. She caught the way a few of them smirked and braver souls - like Greyback - outright laughed. Snape's eyes flashed at her in warning and Hermione knew she was pushing her luck. Hermione stalked away from him and towards the prone form of the bitch she would very much enjoy seeing dead.

"My Lord," Hermione said quietly as she drew closer to the woman, "I am able to save her, but I feel I should warn you... She will not be the same. She has suffered the curse for several minutes now. That kind of heat affecting the brain may leave her dysfunctional."

"Bitch is already dysfunctional," Rabastan Lestrange muttered, though not loud enough for anyone else to hear. Voldemort didn't comment on Hermione's assessment.

"Move," she commanded Rodolphus Lestrange in a cold voice when she came upon the married couple. Bellatrix was scarlet all over with the heat of the curse and drool trickled from the corner of her mouth, which was open in a silent scream. Her eyes gave away the pain now, wide and terrified; Bellatrix knew she was in the throes of death. Lestrange curled his lip at her but moved aside slightly. Hermione refused to kneel - as he had done - instead choosing to aim her wand at the woman while glaring coldly down on her. Loathing bubbled in Hermione's blood and she suspected it was evident in her eyes.

She would need to be careful now. Bellatrix wouldn't die from the curse unless Hermione let her, which Voldemort wasn't going to allow. She might be incapacitated for a time, but she would probably regain most of her brain function. And then Hermione didn't doubt the bitch would try to kill her again. She would need to be vigilant. She'd just embarrassed the witch beyond measure and Hermione knew she would have to pay for it.

Rather than commenting on her thoughts or allowing the woman to die - as she very much wanted to do - Hermione let the magic pour out of herself. She'd lied about the charm she'd invented. Of course it had a counter-curse. She wasn't stupid. She'd designed it as a healing spell but - as had been demonstrated - it could be used for other purposes and as such needed a counter. Beneath the magic, Bellatrix slowly began to fade in colour. The pain left her gaze, leaving a glassy-eyed look behind. Hermione applied a minor level freezing charm - effectively cooling the blood quickly. She felt a cruel sense of satisfaction as she watched the witch turn from puce to red, red to pink, pink to white and then white to a washed out pale that made her look dead. When her lips began to tremble with cold, Hermione knew she'd achieved her goal. Part of her wanted to now apply the opposite effect - to allow the blood to continue to cool until she died of cold. Not that she could get away with it.

In that moment, looking on the prone and now shivering body of Bellatrix Lestrange, Hermione gained a new understanding for the mentally unstable woman. As she fought the urge to let the bitch die, revelling in her suffering, Hermione wondered if she was any better than Bella. In her mind Bellatrix was scum - lower than the lowest. As such she was vile and horrid and Hermione would delight in her death. Yet to Bellatrix, people like Hermione were exactly that as well. As she fought the urge to execute the bitch, Hermione knew suddenly how it was that the unhinged succubus of a woman could delight in causing pain and suffering.

"Mina?" Snape asked from across the room where he waited with the Dark Lord.

"Si, Papa?" Hermione murmured, aware that she was supposed to be an Italian teenager.

"Will she live?" Rodolphus wanted to know.

Hermione curled her lip back from her teeth in a sneer at the man. She worked hard to arrange her features into a perfect imitation of the expression she'd seen Snape use a thousand times when glaring at Neville for failing at Potions. She could tell from the flash in his eyes that it was effective.

"Unfortunately," Hermione replied, her voice like ice.

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"She'd better, or you won't, girl," he threatened quietly.

Hermione ignored his comment, well aware of the threat to her life. As she looked away, averting her gaze as though he and his wife were something vile, Hermione felt eyes on her and she fought the urge to shudder when Rabastan Lestrange gave her a knowing leer. In his green eyes she could see wickedness and intrigue and she realised with a start that having just gotten the better of Bellatrix in a duel and gotten another man killed had made quite the debut for her into this world of Darkness as Mina Graziana. She felt ill when Rabastan looked very much like he'd enjoy having his way with her. His expression suggested that he thought her a kindred spirit and it occurred to her - based on his comment and his expression - that he was not a fan of Bellatrix.

Hermione realised too that he was probably no stranger to refraining from killing her, much to their mutual distaste. Hermione wondered what it might take to turn him on his sister-in-law and she began to plot as she allowed the tiniest hint of a smile to play at the corners of her mouth before she looked away from him and stalked back across the room towards Snape.

"The counter curse?" Voldemort asked, raising one eyebrow.

"There is no counter, my Lord," Hermione answered stiffly, "I merely used a freeze charm on her blood until her temperature was once again under control. When she returns to normal temperature she will be in agony for some days. I suggest a healing draught and bed-rest. Soon enough she will not be able to move - even to breathe - without agony until the internal damage repairs itself."

"Did you hear her, Rodolphus?" the Dark Lord asked, sounding utterly bored as he addressed the man. Hermione didn't deign to look in his direction.

"Yes, my Lord," the man replied, his voice tight with restrained fury as he scooped his wife into his arms.

"Get her out of my sight," Voldemort commanded, looking disgusted. He shook his head as though pitying, though he appeared far from pleased. "Bellatrix. Bested by a teenager. What next? Mudbloods rising to power over all?"

Hermione saw the smirks on the faces of many of the Death Eaters at his disgusted tone as he commented on her behaviour. It was clear that Voldemort was displeased with Bellatrix. It was also clear she was now in some disgrace with her Lord. Hermione felt a little smirk of her own try to prickle her mouth, but she refrained from showing it. She didn't need to draw any more attention to herself. Instead she emulated the man masquerading as her father, affecting a bored and blank expression and showing no further emotion.

She refused to allow her mind to dwell on the fear over what she had just done. She refused to think about how close she'd come to death. She also tried her hardest to refrain from glancing over to where Ron still hung by his chains. It seemed his dangling form, coupled with the emotional distress of believing her to be dead had overcome him. He had slipped into unconsciousness. Hermione's hand was still clutched in Snape's where he'd dragged her to his side once more and she gave it a very minute twitch before flicking her eyes in Ron's direction.

Hermione watched the way his black eyes looked that way for a fraction of a second in a move so casual that to anyone else it would appear as nothing more than flicking a strand of his greasy hair out of his eyes.

"Rabastan, do tell us who fell victim to the duel," Voldemort demanded, and Hermione allowed her attention to be drawn back to the matters at hand. She tried not to notice the way Greyback was slowly drifting towards Ron.

"Worthington, my Lord," Rabastan answered in a voice that seemed rough with misuse. Hermione wondered if he didn't speak very often. He had the type of voice that suggested he didn't often use it for speaking – and when he did, he did not speak loudly. Hermione envisioned him more like a hissing snake, the type of person to make sure he was well within one's personal space before issuing his threats or voicing his opinions.

"Useless," Voldemort sniffed, "Nagini?"

He hissed something in Parsletongue and the great snake slithered forwards toward the body of the dead man. The followers quivered with a combination of fear, horror, and morbid fascination when it became clear the snake had been given permission to feast on the body of the dead Death Eater.

"Now, Severus, do tell me how you bested Potter's Mudblood?"

Snape blinked at him a moment.

"Killing curse as she fled for her life, my Lord," he answered in a cold and utterly detached voice.

"Your daughter's input on the matter?" he inquired and Hermione knew he was testing her again.

She stayed silent, looking up at Snape who glanced into her face for a moment.

"She was simply with me at the time of summons my Lord and I did not have time to return her to my home before doing your bidding," Snape lied smoothly.

"She did not contribute?"

"No, my Lord."

"And yet Worthington is dead by her hand," Voldemort mused, "Bella would be too, if not for her obedience."

Snape remained silent and so did Hermione. She felt a vicious prod inside her mind that she suspected might be Voldemort trying to penetrate her mind without eye-contact and she renewed the mirror within her mind, praying that it would hold against him. She was no master of Occlumency, but she knew enough to keep someone out unless they were making eye contact.

"Begging your pardon, my Lord," Snape replied in a silky voice, "But Worthington's death was caused by Bella's dodged killing curse."

Voldemort fluttered his fingers as though it was of little consequence.

"Most interesting that you have an illegitimate daughter, Severus," the dark wizard mused and Hermione darted a glance at the man to find him surveying his followers, "However, this is not really about her. Hermione Granger, Potter's faithful mudblood, is dead. His side-kick, Ron Weasley, is in my clutches."

"What of Potter, my Lord?" Snape risked the question. The sharp instrument he'd used to prod Hermione stabbed into her again, warning her to keep silent and pretend she knew nothing of the names and people they spoke of. Hermione did so, her eyes travelling over the many faces of the gathered Death Eaters.

"Potter escaped," Voldemort hissed, clearly furious, "Scabior and Mullens grew over-confident when attempting to bring the boy to me and he slipped through their fingers."

Hermione watched the way several among the gathered Death Eaters shrank back slightly in fear of their Lord's wrath and Hermione knew then that while they might all be scum of the Earth, they were also not loyal to a fault. Loyalty overruled fear, in her experience. Voldemort did not have their complete and incorruptible loyalty. And for Hermione that was very good news.

It meant she would need to err on the side of caution, but if their loyalty was already corrupted by fear for their Lord, then they could be exploited. She took note of those most readily fearful at the displeased hiss in Voldemort's voice. Those would become her first targets. Those would be the Dark Lord's servants whom she would use to bring the bastard down.


	4. Chapter 4: Infestation

**A/N: CHERUBS! Are you excited to read on? I can't wait to see what you think of this. Fair warning, this chapter starts out pretty dark and gets a bit grisly in the middle. Not for the faint-hearted or those prone to getting squeamish. Also, did I mention this is a monster 7k word chapter? Don't I spoil you with these juicy updates? Don't forget to tell me what you think! Much love! xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Infestation**

* * *

 _... "I could use another cigarette but don't worry Daddy,_

 _I'm not addicted yet._

 _One too many drinks tonight and I miss you, like you were mine._

 _Your stormy words have barely broken, and you sound like thunder though you've barely spoken._

 _Oh, it looks like rain tonight,_

 _And thank God, 'cause a clear sky just wouldn't feel right"..._

\- **Come Round Soon (Sara Bareilles)**

* * *

"CRUCIO!" the Dark Lord snarled, his wand aimed on the red-haired young man dangling limply in his chains. Hermione bit her tongue, her hand trapped in the tight grip of Severus Snape. It took all of her restraint to keep from attacking the Dark Lord from behind. It took more than she thought she could bear to keep from crying out for Ron.

He was beyond the ability to scream now. Oh, he was far from dead, but he had screamed himself raw and now his mouth opened only in silent agony as he twitched in those terrible chains.

"My Lord?" Snape spoke up finally. It had been more than an hour now since he had brought the body of the muggle disguised as Hermione before the most powerful dark wizard of all time.

Voldemort spun on Snape with a hiss and Hermione fought a flinch.

"Severus?" Voldemort asked in a dangerous hiss. Many of his followers looked on, but even Hermione could see that some of them had grown uncomfortable with the display Ron's torture made. Narcissa Malfoy was gripping Lucius's hand so tight her knuckles were white. Draco Malfoy looked utterly shaken, his eyes unseeing as he stared at the wall beyond Ron. He trembled slightly. Hermione had caught him sneaking glances at the body on the floor. She'd caught the flash of horror in his eyes when his Lord wasn't looking. She'd caught the way the final sparks of hope in his eyes seemed to give out, sputtering like a flame in a downpour.

"Begging your pardon for the interruption my Lord," Snape replied in that silky voice of his and Hermione knew it was a tool he used here as much as he did in a classroom. He had the ability to sound entirely threatening and terrifying in a soft murmur in a classroom. It seemed here, among the Death Eaters, he used his voice for another purpose. The sound of it was like velvet meeting silk in her ears. It was soft, reasonable and somehow mesmerizing.

"I merely wondered, my Lord, if it would be more prudent not to kill him?" Snape suggested.

"Oh?" Voldemort raised a dark eyebrow.

"Well, my Lord, I understand the urge to strike out at Potter by slaughtering his loyal friends. It is with greatest sympathy for your urge to do so that I speak, however, I believe it might be more prudent to provide the boy another fate. Potter has slipped through your fingers. He is still loose. He will, with the right motivation, be forced to strike against you my Lord and I believe the death of the Mudblood will provide it," Snape explained.

"You don't think depriving him of both his friends would be better?" Voldemort asked.

Snape shook his head.

"No, my Lord. This filthy Blood Traitor is often more of a hindrance to Potter than a help. He is bumbling, rash and foolish. Potter often allows the menace to draw him into even greater acts of stupidity than he attempts himself. With the loss of the Granger girl, their friendship will be dysfunctional, at best. It may implode, further damaging the psyche of the little brat. She has always been the brains and the glue behind the friendship."

Snape toed the dead girl's body.

"You believe I should return this to him?" Voldemort asked, intrigued.

"What better way to break his spirit, my Lord, than to have Weasley deliver the body of Hermione Granger back to Potter and the Order?" Snape asked silkily, "More importantly, what better way to further inconvenience and goad Potter than to send Weasley back far less a man than when he was captured?"

Hermione closed her eyes when she realised what Snape was getting at. He meant to send Ron back as less a man. For a terrible moment she feared he wished disfigurement upon Ron, but the little prickle of something against the skin of the hand he held suggested otherwise.

"I do believe, my Lord, that Greyback has a particular penchant for maiming Weasleys," Snape added and all around the hall the others began to chuckle.

"Make the boy a werewolf?" Voldemort mused, "Send him back infected? Yes, Potter would be most inconvenienced to have a werewolf for a best friend. Without Granger they are doomed."

"They will also more readily believe that the Mudblood is dead if Weasley is the one to pass along that message," Snape replied.

"Ah Severus," Voldemort sighed and Hermione tensed as the horrible wizard swept closer, his feet bare on the floor of Malfoy Manor. Snape didn't react at all when Voldemort patted his cheek as though he were adored, "I do so enjoy the way your twisted mind works. Your unwavering hatred of Potter pleases me."

Hermione realised he had decided it was a solid plan.

"Fenrir?" Voldemort asked, turning away towards the werewolf, who was still prowling before the fire. He'd snuck closer to Ron's body before Voldemort began taking his displeasure over Harry's escape out on Ron.

"My Lord?" Greyback replied gutturally. His disfigured face looked alight with hunger.

"I do believe you and Draco should be able to infect the boy with your curse, don't you?" Voldemort asked. Hermione's eyes snapped open at that and she lifted her head slowly to stare at Draco Malfoy. He looked disgusted and he was shaking badly now. His mother's hand rested on his shoulder in a tight grip.

"The pup could use the practice, my Lord," Greyback's smile as a terrible thing, "We would both be delighted."

"Draco?" Voldemort asked and Hermione realised that Malfoy was now a werewolf. No doubt on the orders of Voldemort. And the dark wizard enjoyed exploiting the boy for it. Hermione could tell from the way Lucius Malfoy closed his eyes in horror that it had been done to punish Draco. Suddenly Malfoy's continued absences from classes during their sixth year and his terrible ill-looking symptoms made so much more sense. He'd been bitten. Hermione would wager he'd been infected as a punishment to Lucius for having been defeated at the Department of Mysteries.

"D-delighted, m-my Lord," Draco stuttered, clearly terrified.

Hermione hated herself just a little bit when she felt a twinge of sympathy for Draco Malfoy.

"Wonderful," Voldemort purred, "Then I do declare this meeting over. All of you leave. Severus, you and your daughter will remain to watch the proceedings alongside Lucius and Narcissa. Fenrir, if you would be so kind?"

Hermione felt ill as the gathered Death Eaters began to disperse. Especially when Rabastan Lestrange caught her eye before he left, winking at her lecherously. Hermione stared back at him stoically, refusing to react to him. He seemed all the more pleased by that before he sauntered out of the hall behind his brethren.

Lucius and Narcissa remained silent as they stood before their Dark Lord.

Greyback had prowled closer to Draco, who stepped out of his mother's reach.

"It's not a full moon until next week," Hermione whispered to Snape in confusion.

Voldemort heard her and his smile was terrifying.

"That is true, young Miss Snape," Voldemort replied and both Hermione and Severus flinched slightly at the idea of her being called Snape, "But Fenrir no longer needs the influence of the moon to transform and he has been working on inspiring the same ability in his pack."

A sickening snarl emitted from the large werewolf, his back hunching as his hands and feet began to change. He snagged his claws into the fabric of his robes, hauling them off his body. Hermione watched in silent horror as Malfoy seemed forced to endure the same thing. He cried out in agony as his body began shifting and she flinched when he managed to pull his robes off over his head until he was shirtless and dressed only in trousers. He toed out of his shoes and he began to snarl. His face buckled into a wolf's snout; the change was much faster under Greyback's influence than it was under the influence of a full moon.

Snape gripped her even tighter as both males dropped to all fours, their hands and feet re-shaping to paws as fur sprouted across their bodies. Greyback – as his name suggested, grew into an enormous black wolf with a thick grey stripe down his spine. He was easily five feet high as a wolf and possibly three hundred pounds of slavering beast. Malfoy was smaller, though not by much. His fur, like his human hair, was a bright shade of platinum.

No madness gleamed in Greyback's eyes. At least, not the madness of a werewolf beneath the full moon. Draco was another matter and he began to snarl ferally. Greyback was clearly in control of him, nipping his shoulder to drive him towards Ron. Hermione clutched Snape's hand even tighter as the pair of wolves converged on Ron. Voldemort took great delight in waving his wand to revive Ron just in time for Ron to see the pair.

Greyback lunged at Ron's torso from the side, his fangs sinking through Ron's clothing and tearing into the flesh. The terrible gurgle of pain that left Ron's lip tore at Hermione's very soul. It became a strangled sob when Malfoy lunged at him as well, his jaws closing over Ron's right calf muscle. The wolves savaged Ron ferociously, being sure to tear at his flesh in order to properly infect him with lycanthropy.

"Enough," Voldemort called after some delighted giggling over Ron's pain.

Greyback drew away, looking like he didn't want to stop. Draco had more trouble and he fought Greyback's hold on him, lunging at Ron again. He earned a dose of the Cruciatus curse from Voldemort for his disobedience and Hermione felt a sob catch in her throat at the sight of the wolf writhing in agony beneath the curse. Ron was struggling feebly against his chains.

"Severus, you have some of the silver salve?" Voldemort asked and Snape gave her hand a squeeze before releasing her as he strode forwards, fishing a salve of dittany and powdered silver from inside his robes. He doctored Ron's bite wounds stoically and Voldemort laughed when Ron whimpered.

"You bastard," Ron choked, "I'll kill you, Snape."

Severus ignored him, but Hermione saw the promise in Ron's eyes. If Ron could get away with it, he would murder Snape. He believed that Snape had killed her and had then watched on and done nothing to save him from being turned into a werewolf. To Ron, being a werewolf would be truly horrible. Ron feared werewolves, Hermione knew, despite their association with Remus. Remus might've helped Ron overcome the fear somewhat, but Ron had admitted to her that he still harboured concern over the condition and dreaded the idea of ever becoming a werewolf.

And now he had no choice.

Hermione looked on, trying not to give in to the urge she had to cry. Trying to fight the need to rush forwards and help Ron.

"Mina?" Snape called quietly, "Come here."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, nearly jumping out of her skin when she felt warm breath on the back of her neck. She didn't dare turn around, realising that while she'd been so fixated on Ron, both Fenrir and Draco had begun circling her. She flinched back when Draco lunged at her, his fangs just barely missing her arm as Hermione levelled a glare at the wolf.

"Fenrir," Voldemort warned, "If you cannot control him, I will be most displeased."

Greyback snarled, clearly not at all liking being treated like a well-schooled dog but he turned on Draco viciously just the same. Hermione ignored the commotion they made as the wolves began to fight, snarling and snapping coming from both of them before some whimpering. Hermione looked over her shoulder to see Greyback pinning Malfoy under his much more considerable weight, ripping into Draco's shoulder with his teeth in punishment.

"My Lord, please?" Narcissa appealed and Hermione suddenly recalled the other two inhabitants of the room. Narcissa had tears trickling down her cheeks and dripping from her chin as she looked at her son helplessly. Lucius was trembling all over though whether it was with fear or fury, Hermione couldn't tell.

"Mina?" Severus drew her attention again and Hermione returned her attention to him and to Ron.

"Smear this on the wound on his side. Work it into every tooth-hole. Strip him to make sure none of the bites are missed. If the silver is not worked into every puncture wound, he will die," Snape instructed her. To her ears he sounded disaffected and uncaring.

"Don't touch me, filth," Ron snarled, his voice cracking with how raw his throat was. He flinched away from her touch. Hermione kept her head down. She longed to look him in the eyes, sure that if she did, the boy she loved would recognise her, even with the Potion. She didn't dare. Not when she might be caught. Hermione instead did as Snape had instructed.

She unbuttoned his shirt carefully, exposing his pale, freckled torso. The wound Greyback had inflicted was red and angry, leaking blood. Hermione took the paste from Snape and carefully worked the dittany and silver into the wound. Ron howled in agony. He choked on what she didn't doubt was blood inside his ragged throat. He coughed and spluttered some of it on her but Hermione didn't react. She worked the paste in harder, before turning her attention to the other bite wounds on Ron's body. Snape was busy mixing more paste, needing more than he'd had on hand.

Ron kicked out at her feebly when she unbuckled his belt and slid his trousers down his legs. Hermione ignored that too. She found the bite Draco had left on his calf muscle and rubbed the paste into the wound causing Ron to howl again. When he began to gag on the blood, his head having dropped back in agony, Hermione rose to her full height and reached for his chin. She was risking being caught if he recognised her but there was little to be done for that.

Grasping his chin gently, Hermione tilted his head forwards, not even moving when he coughed and spat blood all over her. Voldemort was distracted by the fighting werewolves, seeming pleased when Greyback fell to gnawing on the dead girl. Hermione didn't look in that direction. She didn't need the nightmares of watching Fenrir Greyback eating her body. Even if it wasn't actually her. Tilting Ron's head a little again when he stopped choking, Hermione whispered spells to heal him as best she could without detection.

Ron's eyes widened as she stroked her wand-tip down the length of his throat, healing the damaged he'd done to it as he screamed. She trailed the tip over his bare chest as well, silently healing him as best she could. She felt tears prickling in her eyes as he struggled feebly against his chains when her fingers brushed over his right nipple.

Hermione lifted her gaze from his chest to meet his blue eyes and she saw the recognition in them. She saw the way his eyes widened the tiniest bit as he met her gaze and Hermione suspected he knew it was her. He'd know her eyes. He'd spent hours this past summer looking into them. Hermione widened her eyes in return, silently indicating that he needed to keep his mouth shut and not react that it was her.

She breathed a sigh of relief when he closed his eyes and tears trickled down his cheeks. She suspected he indeed knew it was her and that his tears were those of relief. Hermione brushed one away carefully and she heard the sob that caught in his throat over the action. He choked it down managing to make it sound like a whimper of pain instead and Hermione knew he wasn't going to give her away. He made no further noises but he hung in his chains a little lighter somehow.

"Miss Snape?" Voldemort asked.

Hermione tensed, "My Lord?"

Ron didn't open his eyes again. He didn't react.

"Are his bites treated?"

"Yes, my Lord," Hermione whispered, "He will be a werewolf."

"Fantastic," Voldemort purred, "Severus, cut him down. You will return him to the ridiculous building his family calls a house."

Snape moved to do so. Hermione held up a hand, her eyes pleading with him as she redressed Ron quickly. Ron fought another sob as she re-buckled his belt, not even flinching at her touch. Unable to resist doing so, Hermione trailed her fingers over Ron's abs and chest lightly, trying to memorise the lines of his body that she'd only been allowed to feel once before. She gathered the sides of his shirt together, buttoning it quickly. Just before Snape moved to unchain him, Hermione pressed her hand to Ron's heart.

She nodded at Snape, indicating that he could let Ron down. His legs gave out when he was lowered to his feet and Hermione grunted with effort as she tried to break his fall. He was heavy and boneless with pain.

"What of the mudblood's body, my Lord?" Snape asked, "Will I deliver that too?"

Hermione looked over her shoulder. Draco had been allowed to transform back to human, it seemed, for he was currently sprawled on his back, stark naked in front of the fireplace. Hermione noticed the amount of blood on him, both from attacking Ron and from being savaged. Greyback was still wolf and he was currently ripping into the belly of the muggle girl disguised as Hermione.

"It was my intention," Voldemort said, "But there is little point now. She is beyond recognition."

Hermione gagged when Voldemort stepped closer, using his foot to turn the face of the girl towards them, displaying that Greyback had clearly been gnawing furiously. Her face was disfigured, the eyeballs eaten. Her lips too had been torn off and there was a gaping hole where her nose had been. Hermione hid her face by turning back to stare at Ron. She'd fallen to the floor under his weight and she coughed on the vomit that threatened, pressing her face to Ron's side.

"Just the boy then," Snape agreed, "The mutt can finish his feast. Mina?"

Hermione lost the battle not to vomit, clambering over Ron just enough to keep from vomiting on him before she threw up all over the floor of Malfoy Manor.

"My sentiments exactly," Voldemort agreed, sounding rather disgusted, "Greyback, get your prize out of here. Filth."

The wolf did as he was told, dragging the body of the girl away by the leg. Hermione didn't know where he planned to take it.

"Get her out of here and clean her up once the Blood Traitor is returned to Potter. I wish to speak with both of you when you return, Severus," Voldemort commanded.

Hermione squeaked when Snape vanished the mess she'd made, along with the blood left behind from the attack and from Greyback's feast. Narcissa had fallen to her knees and was also vomiting in disgust over Greyback's actions while Lucius rubbed her back carefully.

"Narcissa, Lucius. You will not heal Draco's wounds. I will retire for a time, I think. Severus, return quickly with your daughter when your task is complete."

With that, he swept out of the room.

Snape pulled Hermione to her feet, and she blanched again when he swept a hand over her cheek carefully. Hermione couldn't tell if he was feigning sympathy and concern for the Malfoys' sake or if he was actually worried for her. Either way his hand smoothed over her cheek and Hermione saw the look in his eyes. He didn't have to speak to communicate that he needed her to be strong awhile longer.

Hermione bit her trembling lip, nodding her head at him. She turned her attention to Ron, using her wand to levitate him up and into Snape's hold. Ron fought miserably against the hold, also feigning disgust. Snape strode away through the room, his wand in one hand, Ron cradled in his arms and Hermione's hand tucked into the crook of his elbow. Hermione shot one last glance in Draco Malfoy's direction before they swept out of the room. Already his parents were moving towards him, Lucius unfastening his cloak with the intention of concealing Draco's nakedness.

She found herself strangely disaffected by his naked form. It was clear he was in shock. He looked catatonic. Hermione felt another twinge of sympathy for the boy. He might've been a horrible git to her in their younger years. He might've also become a Death Eater. But as she looked at him, knowing full well from the sight of the Dark Mark on his arm and the scars on his body from the lycanthropy that he was afflicted with, Hermione realised he was as much a victim as the rest of them.

A victim of his family's misguided beliefs. A victim of the Dark Lord's whim.

Just before they could leave the room, Hermione slipped away from Snape.

"Mina," he warned in a tight voice as she crossed towards the Malfoy.

"What are you doing?" Lucius asked, his voice sounding dazed. Hermione had swiped the bottle of dittany from Snape's pocket where he'd stashed it.

"He said neither of you were to heal his wounds," Hermione whispered, squatting beside Draco and ignoring his nakedness once again. The circumstances were much too dire and she was much too fraught to notice such things in any capacity beyond the most logical one.

"Then what do you think you are doing to my son?" Narcissa hissed.

"He didn't say anything about anyone else healing him," Hermione replied quietly. She didn't know entirely why she was healing Draco. He was a right git, if she was honest. Perhaps it was simply the inner-Gryffindor within her needing to do the right thing after such a trial of seeing the wrong thing and doing nothing. Maybe it was compassion for his situation, knowing he was as much a victim of war as she was. Maybe it was a nefarious plot to win him over to the side of Mina Graziana-Snape.

All she knew was she felt the undeniable urge to heal him. Even after he'd tried to bite her.

Hermione dripped dittany over the mess of his shoulder where Greyback had ripped into him viciously.

"He'll need a Pepper-Up potion," Hermione told the Malfoys, "Do you have one on hand?"

Lucius waved his wand and one came whizzing from somewhere.

"Lift his head, could you Mrs Malfoy?" Hermione whispered and Narcissa did as instructed, lifting her son's head into her lap.

"Drink this, Draco," Hermione whispered, unfamiliar with his first name but using it nonetheless.

"Mina, we must go," Snape warned.

"Si, Papa," Hermione nodded, affecting Italian once again. It was easier than calling him Father or Snape. She fed Draco the potion carefully, knowing that after the use of the Cruciatus curse on him, Draco would need the effects of the potion most commonly used for the flu.

"Do you have any Hellebore?" Hermione asked, lifting her head to meet Snape's gaze. His black eyes bored into hers dangerously and Hermione could see the flicker of question on his face but she ignored it.

"Inside pocket, right hand side, inner robe," he answered and Hermione got to her feet once more. She reached over Ron carefully, trying not to blush as she dug into his robes, searching for the herbs. When she found a small jar of Hellebore she took it out and uncorked the phial.

"You mean to administer that?" he asked, curiously.

"Hellebore has a narcotic effect on most," Hermione nodded, "On werewolves, the dose isn't high enough to induce delirium, but it will relieve some of the pain by distancing his senses a bit."

"Hellebore is a poison," Narcissa protested.

"Hence the narcotic effect," Hermione nodded, "It's also an anthelmintic and has purgative and emmenagogue effects. Meaning it will purge his system of any ill effects of consuming – even in tiny parts – human flesh. Unless you want to risk him having parasites?"

Lucius blanched and looked like he might be ill.

"Yeah, didn't think so," Hermione muttered, "Open up, Draco."

He must be coming out of the shock as the wounds were healed because his eyes flickered to her face as she hovered over him once more, prying his mouth open when he refused the command. He bit her fingers for her trouble and Hermione hissed at him. Just what she needed. Even in human form, werewolf saliva was mildly infectious. She wouldn't become a werewolf, but she might be a little bit wolf-like from now on. The tiny amount of saliva in her now-bleeding wound wouldn't do more than make her crave her steak a little rarer, but it was still annoying.

"Not nice, Malfoy," she snapped, working her now bleeding thumb between his teeth despite the pain before she tipped up the phial, dropping dried hellebore leaves onto his tongue. She withdrew her fingers quickly and clapped her hands over his mouth before he could cough them up or spit them back out.

"What are you doing to him?" Narcissa protested, trying to pull her hands away.

"They taste terrible, Narcissa," Snape answered for her, "If he can, he'll spit them out. Trail the tips of your fingers lightly over his throat Mina. It will make him swallow convulsively."

Hermione did as she was told, smirking a bit in spite of the horrible situation when Malfoy's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the herbs against his will.

"You might want to get him to a loo," Hermione warned Lucius as she got to her feet once more, "Don't bother dressing him. He'll just make a mess of himself."

Narcissa and Lucius looked aghast.

"I'll get you for this, girl," Malfoy threatened darkly, clearly coming around in a hurry now as he lurched into a sitting position. And clearly ungrateful for her assistance when she'd just healed him. Hermione supposed though that if he had forced Hellebore down her throat – knowing how awful it tasted – she might've been ungrateful too.

"You already did," she replied, flashing her bleeding fingers at him, "Besides, you'll thank me for it when your system is purged of blood-traitor essence."

Malfoy looked ill at that and Lucius helped him to his feet once more while Hermione turned her attention back to Snape. She corked the phial of Hellebore and tucked her hand back into the crook of his elbow, sweeping out of Malfoy Manor with him. The minute they were clear of the oppressive Manor, Snape apparated the three of them away.

"I'm a werewolf," Ron sighed when the landed on the border edges of the Burrow.

"You're a werewolf," Hermione agreed.

"Mina," Snape warned, his eyes flashing at her.

"Don't bother," Ron huffed, "I know who she is."

"You told him?" Snape growled at her, still cradling Ron in his hold.

"She didn't have to," Ron whispered, "I know those eyes. I know that touch."

Hermione smiled slightly.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you more, Ron," Hermione whispered as Snape lowered him to his feet back on the ground, "Everyone needs to believe Hermione Granger is dead. Until this war is over, I must become Mina Graziana-Snape."

"I know," Ron whispered, "Never thought you'd forgive this bastard."

"He acted on Dumbledore's orders," Hermione told him, "If I run now, you know he'll be killed and the world will be that much worse off."

"You got me out of there," Ron stated, leaning heavily on Hermione as he glanced at Snape.

"I am not entirely the enemy," Snape replied evenly though he looked angry, "But the Order must not know that. They must believe I am a traitor and that Hermione Granger is dead."

"Can't tell them that," Ron shook his head, "You know we don't work like that. If you two are still on our side, you'll be part of the Order again. And those tosspots will be none the wiser. We can feign outrage."

Hermione glanced at Snape carefully. He shook his head.

"Either way they'll know. You can come inside with me now and explain the situation, or you can stay out here. I'll tell them either way," Ron said stubbornly, setting his jaw.

"They will kill me on sight," Snape argued, "And they need to believe Miss Granger is dead. They must act in protest of her loss. Do you understand?"

"They will," Ron replied, "We know how to manoeuvre, Snape."

"Your skills at chess will not fool the Dark Lord. If Potter does not rise up in fury over her Death, Hermione will be in even more danger as Mina that she already is."

"You aren't going to let her come back with us then?" Ron asked.

"Not until this war is over."

Ron nodded, "You sure about this, Hermione? If they all think you're Mina, you'll be expected to do horrible things."

"I've already done horrible things," Hermione answered.

"They'll brand you," Ron warned, "If they believe you're Snape's daughter and willing to do Dark Magic for their side, you'll be branded a Death Eater too."

"He's right, Miss Granger," Snape nodded his head, "I suspect the Dark Lord will insist on giving you the Mark. You will have to earn it. You will be required to commit murder. Murder of an innocent. Most likely a muggle, but possibly someone you might call friend. This life is not easy."

"I know that," Hermione answered, "But if I don't do it, you'll be killed and you are clearly far more important to the Order's cause than we realised."

"You're both coming inside," Ron insisted, "I can't walk on my own anyway. And this needs to be explained. We can help. We can make this transition as easy as possible."

"My position with the Dark Lord was hinged on Dumbledore's death," Snape shook his head. "Dumbledore knew that and was dying anyway. If I am believed to be anything but a traitor and treated as less than one by the Order, you will all be in danger and I will be forfeit."

"Please, Professor," Hermione whispered, "Just to explain to them. I can't let them believe I'm truly dead. Ron won't let them."

Snape looked torn and beyond furious but eventually he gave a sharp nod. He took up Ron's free arm, dragging it over his shoulders and the three of them set off in the direction of the Burrow. The wards rippled over them with Ron touching both of them.

"RON?" a shout came from inside, the wards tripped at their arrival.

Arthur Weasley ran from the house, followed by Remus, Tonks, Harry, Molly and the other Weasley children.

"SNAPE!" someone else shouted.

"Don't attack!" Ron held up his hands, shouting at them, "Don't move. It's not what you think."

Hermione found wands trained on her face anyway. Fred and George came forwards and collected Ron from them.

"No one touch them," Ron said, "They saved my life. That's Hermione. Snape's still with the Order. We'll all die if you attack."

"He murdered Dumbledore!" Harry roared, always ready to condemn Snape. Hermione wanted to roll her eyes.

"On Dumbledore's orders," Ron argued, "Merlin, Fred, you're killing me. Fuck! They saved my life! I'd be dead if not for Snape's quick thinking."

"Hermione?" Harry asked, looking around frantically.

"Harry, it's me," Hermione said, "I look different for a reason. It's a potion. We've had to fake my death."

"WHAT?" everyone roared.

Hermione stepped in front of Snape before they could hex him.

"Miss Granger," he protested.

"Quiet, Professor," Hermione retorted.

"Hermione Granger is dead. From here on out, until this war is won, I am Mina Graziana-Snape, the illegitimate daughter of Severus Snape, freshly orphaned of my mother and thus under my father's care. Hermione Granger was killed by Snape and her dead body dragged before the Death Eaters, where is it subsequently still being devoured by Fenrir Greyback."

"WHAT?" Harry roared again.

"It's fake, Harry," Hermione said quickly, "We don't have much time. Please, Ron's been bitten by a pair of werewolves and tortured. He needs rest. Please. Take him inside."

"It's not the full moon. He can't be infected," Remus argued, frowning.

"Greyback no longer needs the full moon to achieve the transformation," Snape replied coldly, "I can assure you, Ron will transform with the moon next week. We've treated the bites with silver paste."

"Oh Ron," Molly began to cry, hugging her son.

"It was the only way to get him out of there alive," Hermione explained, "Voldemort meant to kill me and Ron and send the bodies to Harry. He's furious over Harry's escape. He also believes I am dead."

"And you're not?" George asked, eyeing her doubtfully.

"A muggle decoy," Snape offered, "There was no other way. Ron will explain the details. The point is, all of you need to pretend that Hermione Granger is dead."

"Why?" Harry asked, still glaring at Snape.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Hermione sighed, she turned to Snape quickly, "Empty phial?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at her before fishing one out of his pockets and handing it to her. Hermione withdrew the memory of the past hours carefully and handed it to Harry.

"Get hold of a pensieve and watch this. In the meantime, you must pretend I am dead. From here on out I am the illegitimate daughter of Snape. I will appear to be working for the Dark Lord. I will be branded a Death Eater. I will be asked to do terrible things for the purpose of maintaining my cover," Hermione insisted, "You will all need to act as though I have been killed, including holding a small funeral for me. Since my 'body' was eaten by Greyback there is no need for a burial or memorial erection. I suggest an announcement on Potterwatch. People must believe I am dead, and all of you must act as though you are burning with fury over my apparent murder. You must _not_ speak to me as though I am a friend unless you are certain we cannot be seen or caught. You must _not_ act as though I am Hermione Granger. As long as I wear this face you will treat me as you would if you believed I was the daughter of a traitor to the Order. Do you understand?"

"Hermione you can't go with him," Harry protested.

"Harry," Hermione began, getting frustrated with him. Ron beat her to it.

"She has no choice mate. She had to stand there and do nothing while they tortured me just to get me out of there alive. She's going with Snape. She'll be murdered for real otherwise. I've got a strategy for our retaliation over our apparent rage. The world will think her dead and they will know of our outrage. They will also learn that I'm now a werewolf and they will know our anger over that as well."

"You want to let her go with him?" Harry demanded of Ron, rounding on him. Hermione noticed that the rest of the adults looked concerned.

"No choice, mate," Ron repeated, trying to take a step towards Harry. Fred and George moved forwards with him until he was closer to the black-haired boy who lived, "Like she said, Hermione Granger is dead until this war is over. And if she's not, they both die. After having them save my hide, I can't let that happen."

"You trust Snape?" Harry demanded, his eyes flicking between Ron and Hermione.

"Dumbledore was already dying, Harry," Hermione insisted softly, "You saw his hand. You saw how frail he was towards the end. Do you really imagine a man as brilliant and proud as Albus Dumbledore would've begged for his life?"

"You…" Harry began before he stopped just as suddenly.

"He ordered Snape to kill him Harry. The begging you heard was Dumbledore begging Snape to keep his promise. Begging him to put the old bastard out of his misery. I know you don't want to hear it and I know no one wants to think it, but there is no other explanation. Snape's loyalty was being questioned and he has jobs far more important for keeping you and the Order safe. Those things can't be let fall to the true Death Eaters. If they had, Ron and I would both have been murdered today. Do you understand?"

"Hermione…." Harry began, protesting.

"We need to leave," Snape warned her, "Our absence will already be being called into question."

Hermione nodded, stepping back from her friends. As her eyes travelled over all of them, Hermione felt them filling with tears. These were people she loved. They were her family in all but the biological sense.

"Please forgive me for the things I must do," she whispered to them.

"Oi," Ron said quietly and Hermione glanced at him. He unfurled his arms from around Fred and George carefully, stumbling forwards a step. Hermione moved to catch him when he almost fell. As soon as she touched him, Hermione knew what he wanted. A kiss goodbye. Just in case. Hermione smiled at him softly, muttering healing spells to alleviate some of his pain.

"Enough of that," he murmured to her, his hands tangling into her hair. Hermione met his blue eyes, trying not to cry. She knew this was a goodbye kiss in all senses of the words. She couldn't be his girlfriend while she undertook the tasks ahead. She might very well be required to seduce someone into seeing things her way and she couldn't if she was feeling guilty about betraying Ron.

He kissed her carefully at first. There was no hesitation in his kiss, just a lightness to it that made the tears trickle from her eyes. He could still barely stand on his own, though the spells she'd used had helped him a bit. By the time Hermione pulled away they were both breathing heavily. She was dimly aware of their audience but only very dimly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to Ron.

"Me too," he murmured, "We'll win this war, 'Mione. And we'll be waiting for you whenever you can come back to us."

Hermione nodded, biting her lip as more tears spilled free.

She pulled back from him slowly, noticing the way Remus moved forwards to steady Ron when he swayed precariously.

"Please take care of each other," Hermine begged of them all, "I love all of you. So much."

Molly was crying heavily now and Tonks scuffed her foot in the dirt, clearly trying to hide her own tears. Arthur's bottom lip trembled, though he hid it well enough. Harry just looked devastated and confused. He clutched the phial of memory she'd given him, looking forlorn. Hermione gave him a little smile.

"Mina?" Snape asked, offering his hand to her. Hermione caught the way they all flinched at his use of the new name she'd fashioned. Hermione nodded, glancing at him as she reached out and took his hand. They took the three steps to the outside of the wards quickly and Hermione knew the minute they'd crossed them because Snape tensed once more, clearly no longer able to see the Burrow or the Order members.

Hermione glanced at them all one last time and gave what she hoped was a brave, if watery, smile. Just as she felt the tug behind her navel of being apparated, Hermione caught the sound of a forlorn howl torn from someone's lips. She didn't have to be the brightest witch of her age to know the howl came from Ron.


	5. Chapter 5: Organisation

**A/N: My cherubs! You've come back for more! I'm so pleased! Tell me what you think of this Dark!Hermione in the making. How about Severus? Is he growing on you yet? Strap in, my darlings, because this is a whopping 9k word chapter filled with juicy goodness for you to sink your fangs into. Don't forget to pop all thoughts, feelings, projections and hopes for the story progression at the bottom. I love to incorporate your twisted fantasies into my masterpieces.**

 **Much love! xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Organisation**

* * *

 _... "You got what you wanted, didn't you?_

 _Don't know where your heart is, but mine's bruised._

 _You knew when you started that I'd lose._

 _Blood on the carpet, it's not you._

 _You can't save me"..._

- **Save My Soul (Jojo)**

* * *

"What were you thinking?" Snape demanded and Hermione blinked in surprise when she found herself inside a dilapidated house. She suspected it must belong to Snape himself.

"That they needed to know I'm not really dead," Hermione answered, dropping his hand carefully and taking a small step back as he loomed over her, "You know Harry would rush headlong into an attack and get himself killed before the horcruxes could be destroyed if they believed that I was actually dead."

"Foolish girl!" Snape spat, "I know that! What the bloody hell do you think you were doing duelling with Bellatrix like that?"

Hermione's eyes widened. In all the years she'd known Snape, she'd never once heard him curse. His wit was too acerbic. His tongue too sharp to deliver such curses when other, less crass, more cutting words could be wielded.

"She tried to kill me!" Hermione replied, "I had to do something. If I hadn't retaliated, you know she'd have kept trying until she succeeded."

"And I could have handled her," Snape snarled at her, "Now the Dark Lord and his followers are intrigued by you. How am I to keep you from their clutches when they know you can best their most formidable witch in a duel?"

"I didn't best her," Hermione sighed, "I just got lucky. I'm not an idiot. I know she's far more powerful than I am. And I know she'll only want to kill me even more now for embarrassing her this way."

"The Dark Lord means to interrogate you on your invention of that spell. I detected no lie from you on that?" he hissed.

Hermione shrugged, "It was designed as a healing spell, intended to mildly warm the blood while we were on the run. All-over heating of the clothing and surroundings uses more energy. Warming the blood a bit is far more effective and far less strength consuming."

"You invented a spell that boils the blood?" Snape demanded.

"I invented a healing spell. But yes, as you've seen, it can be used to boil the blood to the point where the brain will melt. If I'd let it go much longer Bellatrix would be dead," Hermione told him.

"You lied about the counter-curse," he went on, still looming over her.

"Of course I did. I meant to let her die. When I saw that the Dark Lord would kill me if that happened, I realised I would need to use it, but I'd already lied about there being no counter. So I improvised."

Snape simply glared at her for several long minutes in silence after that. His slashed hook of a nose was like a weapon for him to glare down. His eyes were hard and furious.

"Luckily, the Dark Lord knows enough of me to know that I have a penchant for creating spells and so believed it viable that you would be able to do the same thing," he said finally, "In future you will not draw such attention to yourself. Now you will need to be on guard with both Bella and Rodolphus."

"And Rabastan," Hermione added, refusing to be cowed by the Potion Master.

"Rabastan loathes Bellatrix almost as much as you and I both do," Snape waved his hand.

"Yes, I know," Hermione replied, "I don't need to be on guard from him regarding a killing curse in the back. Didn't you see the way he looked at me?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration at that.

"He's intrigued by you," he sighed, "Of course he is. No one so young – and currently so appealing – has been able to emulate Bella quite so well in a long time and for all that he loathes Bellatrix, he also fancies many of her traits. Many that you expressed. You were ruthless in there, Miss Granger."

"Mina," Hermione corrected, "You need to practice calling me Mina."

"Mina," he corrected himself, nodding his head in agreement, "You have drawn attention to yourself. Perhaps too much."

"Not necessarily," Hermione replied, "It is now important that the Dark Lord sees me as an asset to be utilized. And while he does that I will begin dismantling his nest of vipers from the inside."

"That is why you insisted upon healing Draco?" Snape asked, opening his eyes to look at her once more.

"Draco is as much a victim of this war as the rest of us," Hermione nodded, "I helped him mostly out of pity. I had no idea until today that he'd been infected. I also realised that he could be a valuable asset to my plot."

"Your plot?" he asked, "You cannot go into this thinking you can turn dark people from their dark deeds, Mina."

"I know that," Hermione nodded, "I don't intend to. I intend to sway their loyalty from the Dark Lord. I intend to bring them all undone. They already fear his wrath. I will begin there."

"You are playing a game far more dangerous than you realise," Snape warned.

Hermione nodded.

"I know," she sighed, "I need you to teach me Dark magic."

"You wielded the Unforgiveables well enough," Snape argued, raising one eyebrow at her, clearly doubting that.

"I was angry," Hermione shrugged, "I know all about needing to mean them to cast those. I meant every one of them. And I'd have felt no remorse had Bellatrix succumbed to a killing curse unleashed by me. However, since I cannot walk around in a rage without winding up in a bind, I need to learn how to control the rage whilst being able to utilize the magic. I also only know some of the basic dark spells. And those from your Potions book…."

"Potter," Snape snarled at the reminder.

"Please teach me? You'll be teaching me Occulmency anyway."

Snape nodded his head with one quick jerk.

"I will teach you everything I know. But you will need to curb your incessant need to question me and you will need to open you mind to the horrors of the Dark magic realm. Moral outrage will only hinder us," Snape warned her. Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Do you have something for this?" Hermione asked, lifting her hand to show him the wounds Draco had left on her fingers when he'd nipped her.

"He bit you and drew blood?" Snape asked, aghast.

"Obviously," Hermione replied, doing her best to emulate him.

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Are you trying to impersonate me, Miss Granger?" he asked suspiciously.

"Of course I am, sir," Hermione smirked at him, "People need to believe I am your daughter."

"They think you've only known me a week."

"They've already seen some of your traits in me," Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "Rodolphus wanted to hit me when I curled my lip at him like you used to do to Neville."

"Goading Death Eaters is not wise, Mina," he warned, clearly recognising his slip and correcting himself.

"I might be emulating Bellatrix a little as well," Hermione shrugged, "They need to believe I am cocky and confidant and ruthless. She's as good a model for that as any other. And you're not cocky. You're just… intimidating. I'll use that too."

Snape narrowed his eyes further at her, looking like he disapproved but he didn't say anything. Instead he handed her a healing draught and Hermione drank it without hesitation. Snape looked torn between wanting to scold her for not checking it wasn't contaminated or poisoned, but also looked like he was begrudgingly impressed by her show of faith in him.

"You need to clean up," he told her rather than commenting, "We must return to the Dark Lord."

Hermione nodded. Crossing the room to a mirror on his wall, Hermione waved her wand at her hair, smoothing it once more. A cleaning spell for her skin and her robes came next.

"I need a toothbrush," Hermione admitted, meeting his eyes in the mirror while she watched him pinch the bridge of his nose again.

"Third door on the left," he pointed down the hall, "There should be a new one in the vanity cabinet."

Hermione set off down the hall, choosing to take in the details of his house carefully. She brushed her teeth quickly, finding the spare new toothbrush where he'd said it would be. It seemed entirely bizarre to be brushing her teeth in Snape's bathroom, but she didn't dwell on it. When she was done she set the toothbrush into the holder next to his. They needed to make it look like she'd been staying there a week in case anyone came looking.

"Do you still have my beaded bag?" Hermione asked him when she returned to the living room. Or tried to. He wasn't there.

"Upstairs," he called, and Hermione found a small staircase leading to a second level.

"I need to make it look like I've been living here… oh," she stopped when she found him in a bedroom. One he was clearly trying to make it look like she'd been living in, "You're already on it."

"Indeed," he answered and Hermione caught the small smirk on his face. He was digging around in the beaded bag she'd been carrying with her, pulling out things like her clothes and her hairbrush and setting them about the room.

"Do you wish to change before returning to Malfoy Manor?" he asked, "You will not be permitted to wear muggle attire anymore excepting when you are here."

"No, these will be fine," Hermione said quietly, "Is he going to insist on Legilimency? I'm not ready. I kept him out when he tried without eye contact…."

"That was me," he disagreed, "I wanted to test your abilities and to keep you on your guard. He won't penetrate your mind without strong suspicion. He is unstable of late, with the destruction of two of his Horcruxes and he has trouble removing himself from the mind of his victims. He also likes to be fully in control and inside himself in times when he can connect himself to Potter's mind. As long as you do not draw suspicion, you will be safe."

Hermione pondered that for a moment.

"Did this used to be your room?" she asked curiously as she surveyed the surroundings, noticing the Slytherin flag stuck to the wall with what she assumed must be a permanent sticking charm.

"You…" he began, glancing at her, "Yes."

"I thought so," Hermione murmured, looking around carefully, "Should we go then?"

"That would be best, if you are feeling up to it."

"No use putting it off any longer," Hermione sighed, "What am I to tell the Dark Lord?"

"That you arrived a weak ago after your mother's untimely death. That I interrogated you at length, to ascertain you were telling the truth," he answered, offering his arm to her.

Hermione found herself reaching out and taking his hand rather than simply placing her hand on his arm. He raised an eyebrow at her quizzically at the action. Hermione suspected he was startled by the intimacy of the act. She didn't imagine many people took the hand of Severus Snape lightly. She, however, found comfort in holding his hand. He was her only lifeline now, in the pit of vipers. He'd held her hand for most of the first visit to the Manor and so Hermione didn't find herself concerned by his touch.

He didn't comment on her actions, though he was clearly surprised. Hermione simply nodded to indicate that she was ready to go. Snape snorted almost inaudibly before he apparated them both away. Hermione shook her head slightly to clear it when they landed before the looming grandeur of Malfoy Manor.

"Why is it always storming here?" she asked, muttering in annoyance as she tugged her hood up over her head to protect her hair.

"The Dark Lord prefers violent weather. His power manipulates the weather surrounding him," Snape replied. Hermione caught the way he was twisting his fingers slightly as though trying to loosen her grip on him.

"Do I make you uncomfortable?" Hermione asked, smirking at him sideways when she tightened her grip on his hand. He slanted a glare in her direction and Hermione chuckled knowingly before she released him. She could tell he was unsettled by having to touch her when not for a purpose and it amused her more than it ought to.

He made no reply to her question or her actions. In fact he seemed to pretend she wasn't there as his now released hand began searching his pockets for something. He stopped her at the door before they entered.

"You need to drink this," he said, fishing a phial of pale blue liquid from his pocket and handing it to her.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, looking at it in concern.

"It's a potion that will alter your personal scent," Snape informed her, "We have altered your appearance enough not to be recognised but by one who knows you best. Now we need to hoodwink the noses of those among this group that might be more acquainted with your scent than is desired."

"My scent?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Draco is a werewolf, Mina," he reminded her, "And he spent all of last year at school with you learning how to put his heightened sense of smell to use. If you go in there smelling like Hermione Granger now, he will see through our plan. Greyback didn't know your scent well enough for it to matter, and having feasted on the corpse he believes to be Hermione Granger will have him thinking the girl's smell was Granger. But Draco will know better. He used scent to track the three of you through the castle more times than you know. Drink the potion."

"He didn't notice my scent before," Hermione pointed out.

"You'd been with me while I was toting the supposedly murdered body of Hermione Granger. It was feasible for you to smell like Hermione Granger. Mina Graziana needs a different scent. This potion will provide that."

"What will it make me smell like?" Hermione wanted to know.

"I'm told you currently smell like vanilla and orchids," he informed her dryly and Hermione felt startled, "I cannot say what the potion will change it to. It effects your body on a hormonal level. Drink it and we'll find out."

Hermione sighed, not at all liking that this mission would cost not just her appearance and her identity but apparently her personal body scent too. Unstoppering the phial, Hermione brought it to her lips and drank it down. She shuddered at the sickly sweet flavour like liquid cotton-candy.

"Too sweet," she choked out, shuddering again. Snape took the phial back and handed her a metal flask. Hermione didn't bother asking what was in it. She coughed again when the sweetness of the potion was replaced with the burn of fire-whiskey in her throat.

"Could have warned me it was fire-whiskey," she spluttered, trying not to gag on the burn of the alcohol even if she did appreciate the way it warmed her all the way down to her toes.

"Hush," he commanded, taking it back from her and wiping the top before corking it once more and putting it back in his pocket.

"So what do I smell like now?" she queried, still standing on the doorstep. Snape was in the process of knocking on the door. She furrowed her brow, "And why are you knocking? We didn't knock before."

"Before was a formal meeting, allowing admittance without being invited in. Now we are here for a private meeting and must be invited inside," he informed her seriously. Hermione squeaked in surprise when he tugged her arm until she was standing directly in front of him. She froze when his hands gathered her hair from the back of her neck and moved it to one side. The feel of his nose pressed to the back of her neck right along her hairline made Hermione's hair stand on end.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, not moving though she wanted to dance away.

"You now smell like cinnamon and… moon lilies…" he replied, still sniffing. Hermione wondered how good his nose must be that he could identify her by the scent of a particular flower. She knew of course that things like Rose or Lavender were easy enough to distinguish, but moon lilies and orchids were much more difficult to pick up on, let alone recognise.

"Delightful," Hermione answered, "Now stop sniffing me before we get caught."

Snape stepped back from her before moving to one side of her just in time for Lucius Malfoy to answer the door.

"Severus," he nodded when he recognised them, lowering his wand.

"Lucius," Snape replied silkily, "Allow me to formally introduce my daughter, Mina Graziana-Snape. Mina, this is Lucius Malfoy."

Hermione eyed Malfoy carefully, before extending one hand, as was proper among stuffy purebloods like Malfoy. His eyes assessed her coldly for a long moment before he accepted her hand, bowing over it slightly and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr Malfoy," Hermione offered, trying to emulate the silkiness of Snape's tone as she spoke to the man. After all, she wasn't supposed to know him, beyond their earlier interaction at the meeting. Hermione Granger knew all about how rotten Lucius Malfoy was. But Mina Graziana didn't. And so she played her part.

"Indeed, Miss Mina," he answered, "Welcome to Malfoy Manor. Do come in."

Hermione allowed Snape to accept her hand back from Malfoy, tucking it into the crook of his elbow and escorting her across the threshold. Hermione noticed he was much more comfortable with escorting her while their skin wasn't touching.

"You have a delightful home, Mr Malfoy," Hermione offered, remembering her manners, "I am privileged indeed to be invited inside. Please accept this."

She pulled out her wand to conjure a bouquet of crimson and black orchids, offering them to the man. He looked mildly surprised by her show of good manners upon arriving as a guest in his home and Hermione caught the look of surprise and approval Snape flashed her before his face fell back into a smooth mask of stoicism.

"Charming," Lucius almost purred. Hermione chose not to notice the differences now to how he had looked the last time she'd seen him, before the Dark Lord's rebirth. They were too many to name. Hermione felt almost sorry for the man. He was clearly a prisoner inside his own home.

"Trink?" he called in a sharp voice and a terrified house elf appeared beside him.

"Yes master?" the elf asked. Hermione pinched her lips to keep from commenting on or reacting to the elf's poor attire and state of mistreatment.

"Find a vase for these. Put them in the sitting room and bring tea. Severus and Mina will be joining us all for tea," Lucius commanded the elf.

"Will Master Draco and Mistress Lestrange be joining us master?" Trink asked fearfully.

"There will be nine of us unless Bella is still suffering," Lucius informed the elf, eyeing it coldly. Trink nodded and disappeared immediately, taking the flowers with her.

"Draco is recovered?" Snape asked of Malfoy.

"He was, as expected, overcome with a sudden illness, but he has recovered considerably and will be joining us for the meeting. The Dark Lord is most interested in her," Lucius told him and Hermione didn't miss the subtle suggestion that Snape ought to beware, "I admit, we are all curious."

"Naturally," Severus answered, "I was rather surprised myself."

Lucius nodded, clearly recognising that Snape would give no answers without being in the presence of the others, in order to avoid repeating himself. He escorted them through the looming Manor with all the airs of a proper host. Hermione wondered if he was always that way or if her show with the flowers had prompted him to remember he was in fact the Lord of the house and entertaining company.

"Ah, Severus," Voldemort purred.

"My Lord," Snape bowed his head in acknowledgement, sweeping them both into the room behind Lucius. Hermione steeled herself for what was to come noting that by small mercies, Bellatrix was not present.

"May I present my daughter, Mina Graziana-Snape," Snape offered with all the pomp of nobility and Hermione was surprised by the way he bowed a little, taking her hand from his elbow and presenting her to the company.

"Mina, before you are the Dark Lord," he pointed to each person in turn, "Lady Narcissa Malfoy, Lord Rodolphus Lestrange and Lord Rabastan Lestrange, and Lord and Lady Malfoy's son, Draco."

Hermione smiled politely.

"Lady Malfoy," she offered, once again using her wand to conjure more gifts. She'd never tried anything more exciting than orchids, as she'd given to Lucius. She was extremely pleased when she managed an exotic bouquet of lilies, roses and daffodils in shades of white, purple and yellow, respectively. Narcissa looked entirely shocked by the show of good manners as Hermione presented her the flowers. They looked entirely out of place among the dark décor and dark company and Hermione rather liked it that way.

"It's a pleasure to be invited into your home, Lady Malfoy," Hermione purred, opting for the silkiness she'd heard Snape use too.

"More flowers?" Lucius whispered almost inaudibly.

"The pleasure is mine, I'm sure, Miss Graziana," Narcissa simpered in return, rising from her seat. Hermione adopted all the pomp she'd seen in the wizarding world, accepting the strange embrace and each cheek air-kisses from the blonde witch.

The rest of the wizards present, prompted by her show of proper manners, all rose to their feet to properly meet and greet her. When Narcissa released her, she waved Draco forwards. Hermione offered her hand to Draco, as she'd done to Lucius. She smoothed her face into a perfect mask of propriety as he lifted the appendage to his lips and kissed the back of her hand. Hermione caught the way he eyed her fingers for signs of the damage he'd done to them with his teeth.

"Miss Graziana," Draco greeted, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. Hermione felt a small smirk of her own arranging itself on her lips in response. She felt like a child playing a dangerous game of dress-up.

When he released her, Hermione turned to Rodolphus Lestrange. She worked hard to remove the smirk Draco had inspired from her expression. She could see from the hateful flash in Rodolphus's eyes that he despised playing at pureblood politics and politeness after what she had done to his wife.

"Miss Graziana," he greeted in a barely restrained growl. Hermione lost the ability not to smirk at the man, taking entirely too much pleasure from watching him play nice when he wanted to kill her.

"Lord Lestrange," Hermione replied in a sickly sweet voice. He brought her hand to his lips. His dark hair was long, like Lucius's, and pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His eyes, the same vivid green shade as his younger brother's, were narrowed on her as he kissed her hand.

"A _pleasure_ to meet you, Lord Lestrange," Hermione purred, "I was devastated to learn your Lady wife would not be joining us this afternoon."

Rodolphus looked like he wanted to throttle her as he released her hand, though he resisted the urge when Voldemort tittered as though amused by her provocation. Hermione turned her attention to Rabastan, noticing that he was decidedly younger than his brother. Hermione was surprised. She had always thought the brothers must be close in age, but as she looked at Rodolphus and then Rabastan again she realised there must be at least ten years difference in their ages.

"Miss Graziana," Rabastan murmured in that softly spoken voice she'd heard from him before. Hermione offered her hand to the man as well, trying not to shudder under the heated gaze he turned on her.

"Lord Lestrange," Hermione replied, "Delighted."

She pulled her hands away from him as quickly as she could. He looked much more pleasant, Hermione noticed, than his brother; than she had ever suspected he might. His pictures in the paper had all showed him in his Azkaban robes, dishevelled and half-mad. Now he looked far from those things. He wore dark robes, as they all did. His hair was neatly cut, hanging to his sharp cheekbones in brown waves. His green eyes were bright as they travelled over her. His jaw was strong and freshly shaved, bearing none of the stubbly growth his brother sported.

If he weren't a horrible Death Eater as likely to kill her as kiss her, Hermione might've called him handsome.

Voldemort waited with surprising patience until Hermione had greeted everyone else before she turned her attention to him. She had done so on purpose, knowing it was proper. Lucius, Narcissa and Draco were to be greeted first because it was their house and they were her hosts. The Lestrange brothers came next as family of the hosts. Voldemort came last in order of propriety as a fellow guest, however he also came last as he was deemed the most important in the room.

"My Lord," Hermione greeted him with a deep curtsy, keeping with the manners she had shown thus far.

"My, my, Severus," Lord Voldemort praised, "She is well trained in propriety and courtesy when in pleasant company."

"Thank you my Lord," Snape replied almost airily. He, like everyone except Voldemort and Hermione, had taken a seat and there was an elf – this one much more neatly presentable than Trink – pouring them all tea, "I didn't teach her. She comes with the knowledge already ingrained in her."

"Delightful," Voldemort said. Hermione fought the urge to shudder when he held his hand out, intent on kissing the back of it in greeting as was proper. Hermione wondered if it was meant to be the other way around with him. She placed her hand in his carefully, noting that his hand was as cold as ice.

She adopted an adoring and flattered smile when he kissed her hand, tamping down the urge she had to jerk her hand from his grip.

"The pleasure and privilege in our meeting is entirely mine, my Lord," Hermione told him, aiming for polite but awed pleasantries.

"Indeed," he agreed with her.

When he released her, Hermione waited for him to wave her towards a seat next to Severus before she took her seat.

"Tea, Miss?" the elf asked.

Hermione held her cup out, biting her tongue when she realised she had almost said please. The elf poured the steaming liquid into her cup. Hermione nodded her head when the cup was full enough. The elf made to offer her sugar and milk, but Hermione waved her away, knowing the poor thing would never get it right without her instruction nor without upsetting her masters.

Plopping one sugar cube into her cup she added a dollop of milk before stirring the mix carefully seventeen times counter-clockwise. Only then did she remove the spoon and lift the tea to her lips. She sensed she was being watched by all of them, and Hermione knew this was a test of her trust for her hosts that she had not been poisoned. Out the corner of her eye she watched Snape sip his own tea, having also accepted milk and sugar.

Hermione smiled behind her cup as she took a sip. It would be incredibly rude to pause to sniff the tea for traces of poison, she knew. Snape had clearly deemed it safe. Hermione wondered if he noticed that she'd prepared her tea exactly the same way he drank his. She wondered if the others noticed.

"I must say, Severus," Voldemort began the conversation. Hermione could tell they'd been waiting on him to speak, no doubt to avoid offending him, "I find myself tickled by the notion of you producing offspring. And a daughter, no less."

"My Lord," Snape inclined his head, "It came as quite the shock. I'm sure you can imagine."

"Indeed," Voldemort smirked, "Do tell us, what took you so long to introduce her to us?"

"I wanted to confirm her story before even considering the idea, my Lord," Snape replied, "It was important that I ensured she was not an imposter before even thinking of introducing her to you."

"And you have done so," Voldemort noted and Hermione took note that he did not phrase it like a question, "How intriguing. Severus Snape has a daughter. Tell me, Mina, is Severus all you hoped for in a father?"

Hermione lowered the cup she'd been sipping out of and peered at the Dark Lord across the coffee table.

"I was pleasantly surprised, my Lord," she replied smoothly, "Mi madre was a very private woman and I admit she did not speak of Severus in the most…flattering light."

The Lestrange brothers smirked and Draco hid a snort. Snape feigned disinterest. Lucius and Narcissa watched her carefully while Voldemort looked intrigued.

"She was not fond of Severus?" he asked.

"Begging your pardon, my Lord, but can one truly be fond of a man whose bed she shares for a single evening and never hears from again?" Hermione offered rather than answering the question.

Voldemort smirked wider.

"How old are you, Mina?" he inquired directly.

"I'll be seventeen next month, my Lord," Hermione lied.

"And your birthdate is?" he asked. Hermione knew he was trying to catch her in a slip up.

"August twentieth, 1980, my Lord."

"A Christmas dalliance, Severus?" he inquired of Snape.

"One of many, my Lord," Snape answered, smirking a little, "You may recall we were all rather…. Energised beneath your rule then."

"Indeed," Voldemort smirked at him, "And your mother was an Italian witch, Mina?"

"Si," Hermione nodded. She feigned a blush over her supposed slip-up with language, "Apologies. Yes, my Lord. She was here with a friend celebrating Hogmany and seeing the world. As you can imagine she went home with an unexpected souvenir."

Voldemort laughed then as though Hermione delighted him.

"There may be little resemblance, Severus, but she shares many of your mannerisms and indeed, your sense of humour."

"Didn't think Snape had a sense of humour," Rodolphus grunted.

"Mina certainly has one regarding dear Bella," Voldemort cut him down immediately and the man's hand tightened on his tea cup, "Now then, Mina, you have yet to complete your schooling, is that correct?"

"Yes, my Lord," Hermione said, sipping her own tea momentarily, "I've another year to complete."

"Ah, the same as our Draco, then," he commented. Hermione allowed her eyes to travel to Malfoy. He eyed her in return, "The two of you will be needing a trip to Diagon Alley shortly, I'm sure, for school supplies. Did you know Severus will be installed as Headmaster of Hogwarts?"

"I didn't, my Lord," Hermione replied, dragging her attention away from the dark circles under Malfoy's eyes to fix back on Voldemort, "Though I am pleased to hear it. It would not be so easy, I think, to attend the school for one final year if that were not to be the case."

"Tell us Mina, do you have a favourite subject?" Voldemort wanted to know.

Hermione pretended to consider the question.

"I'm not sure of the options offered at Hogwarts, my Lord, but at Ferviditous in Italy, my best subject was Potions," Hermione answered. She couldn't say it was entirely true. Last year she'd done worse than Harry at Potions, though that was the fault of Harry possessing Snape's textbook.

Lucius and Voldemort laughed and even Snape chuckled along.

"I have said something funny?" Hermione feigned innocence, looking to Snape as though she needed guidance.

"Potions is my subject," he pretended to inform her for the first time.

"Oh," Hermione said, before offering him a wide and mildly doting smile, "How wonderful. Will you still teach as Headmaster?"

"No," he replied, "Potions will be conducted by another. Is Slughorn staying on?"

"Indeed," Voldemort nodded.

"Is he as good as you?" Hermione pretended not to know the answer. Snape eyed her for a moment.

"No," he answered truthfully, having surpassed his own teachers and having dedicated far more time and interest to the subject that Slughorn did.

"Will you tutor me?" Hermione asked, pretending hopefulness as she spotted an opening to have reasons to be meeting often with him when he was Headmaster. He smiled at her for perhaps the first time in Hermione's memory and she was struck by how a genuine smile – rather than a smirk or a gloating sneer – could arrange his less than favourable features into something almost pleasant.

"Grazie, Papa," Hermione beamed at him, squeezing his hand in gratitude. He looked momentarily startled to be addressed in Italian and to be called her father. He also looked surprised by the touch and by her bright smile. Hermione supposed he wasn't used to any of those things and it showed.

She wasn't the only one who noticed.

"Merlin, Severus, you look like a startled rabbit when she does that," Narcissa tittered in amusement and Hermione got the feeling Narcissa liked her, despite what she'd done to Bellatrix.

"I am unused to such things, it's true," Severus offered and Hermione caught the glimmer in his gaze that suggested he approved her methods, even if they had shocked him. She wondered what would prompt the requirement for her to hug him in gratitude, somehow finding the idea amusing. She chuckled just a little bit at the idea of embracing Snape.

She was surprised to learn the notion didn't appal her and she realised that she had clearly forgiven him quickly for his past actions. Being forced to play doting daughter made it hard to remember she was his student and had never been a fan of his teaching methods in the past.

"Most intriguing indeed," Voldemort purred, "Draco, don't you find Mina intriguing?

Hermione felt a slight blush crawl its way to her cheeks as the Dark Lord appealed to the blonde werewolf.

"Yes, my Lord," Draco answered and Hermione could tell from the set of his mouth that he greatly disliked the Dark Lord.

"How is it that you are joining us for tea, Draco?" he asked, suddenly, looking in Malfoy's direction, "I gave strict instructions that neither of you heal him, Lucius."

"We didn't, my Lord," Lucius protest.

"And yet here he sits, seemingly unharmed after scuffling with his Alpha?" Voldemort sneered.

"My Lord, please, we didn't," Narcissa began, looking fearful.

"I healed him, my Lord," Hermione piped up, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. The Malfoy's looked like they didn't know if they should be grateful or if they should pity her lack of sanity. Severus looked like he was concerned over what was to become of her. Rodolphus looked like the cat who ate the canary, clearly believing she would be punished. Rabastan's expression gave little away as Hermione met his glance for a moment.

"You?" the Dark Lord asked, his red eyes slitting in annoyance.

"Begging your pardon, my Lord," Hermione offered, shrugging her slim shoulders, "Catatonic shock is dangerous to the continued health of your followers. I acted to remedy that before the damage could be permanent."

"You circumvented an order?"

"I was given no order, my Lord," Hermione disagreed, "The inability to heal Draco was an order issued specifically to Lord and Lady Malfoy."

"Severus?" Voldemort asked, glancing at Snape.

"You _did_ only order Narcissa and Lucius not to heal him, my lord. And he _was_ entering a catatonic state… I assumed you would not wish addlement upon him when you have been so fond of toying with the boy," Snape offered.

"You assisted Mina then?" Voldemort asked.

"I did my Lord…. He is my Godson…" Snape offered, glancing at Draco sympathetically. Hermione caught the glimmer in his eyes that suggested he truly cared for the boy. She was unsurprised to learn Malfoy was Snape's godson – she had suspected as much already – but she was surprised to see that he seemed to genuinely care for Draco. Draco returned the expression with a desperate sort of gleam in his grey eyes.

Voldemort said nothing after that and Hermione got the feeling he was thinking he would need to be both more and yet less specific regarding the actions of his followers in future.

"Like to upset the applecart, don't you Miss Graziana?" Rabastan inserted into the silence.

Hermione looked over at him, finding him once again appraising her. The heat in his green gaze made her uncomfortable, but she didn't let it show. A plan was forming in her head concerning the dark wizard. She would need to research him in further detail before she put anything into action, but she suspected she could use the man to her advantage.

"What else are applecarts for if not for upsetting?" Hermione inquired in turn, smirking at him.

"My Lord, twice now the girl has shown insolence and insubordination," Rodolphus growled, glaring at her.

"Rather ruffled over Bella's state, aren't you brother?" Rabastan quipped to his brother, slanting a smirk in his direction.

"Bellatrix brought her current in-disposal upon herself," Voldemort replied smoothly, "If she is so foolish to attempt murder on an unknown party and be beaten, that is her own poor luck. Beaten by a teenager. What is wrong with that woman, Rodolphus?"

"My Lord?" the man asked, his lord, looking far less secure than he had a moment ago.

"Have you impregnated the witch?" Voldemort wanted to know, "It is my understanding that pregnancy addles the mind of a witch. Is that the reason for her poor judgement? Bella is rarely bested, yet Mina was able to best her. If not for my insistence upon mercy, Bella would be dead."

Rodolphus went white as a sheet.

"I… she's not indicated… I…" Rodolphus stammered and Hermione rather enjoyed seeing the man off balance. She suspected from the way Rabastan began to chuckle than he was also enjoying it.

"There would be a tragedy," Snape sneered, "Bella with child… I pity that poor creature."

Hermione caught the smirks of Lucius, Draco and Rabastan. Rodolphus looked entirely too disturbed and fearful of the notion to react. Narcissa seemed alarmed and Voldemort looked curious.

"Why don't you and Bella have children, Rodolphus, my friend?" Voldemort inquired nosily – which Hermione found very amusing given his lack of one.

"My Lord?" the dark wizard asked, "I… we married late, my Lord. Bella never indicated she… well, I..."

Draco snorted.

"Bella never wanted children," Narcissa offered, taking pity on the stammering wizard.

"Why not? It is her duty to produce an heir, both for the continuation of the Black and Lestrange bloodlines," Voldemort said, "We are dwindling in number, the remaining pureblood lines. This is unacceptable. Even Severus has carried on the Prince line through Mina."

Hermione had no idea whether or not Voldemort was toying with the man or if he was serious. Snape leaned back a little in his chair, sipping his tea. Hermione shot him a look, wondering if he had answers. He indicated with his eyes that she ought to sit back as well. Hermione hoped it wasn't in indication that she need not draw further attention at that moment when the continuation of pure bloodlines was being discussed. Especially with Rabastan eyeing her so heatedly.

"Go to her, Rodolphus," Voldemort commanded when the man didn't answer, "I want her tested for possible pregnancy as a reasoning for her slow-responses in her duel today. I imagine your curse was not conducive to continued growth of a child, Miss Graziana?"

Hermione blinked at him.

"If she were with child, she won't be any longer, my Lord," Hermione confirmed, "At least, not with anything anyone would want to see born…"

She affected a shudder of disgust at the idea.

"Indeed. If she is not pregnant, Rodolphus, it will be your duty, once she is feeling less pain, to impregnate her at the earliest possible convenience. Do you understand?"

"I… you want me to…. My Lord, Bella is…. Very against children…. She loathes them," Rodolphus admitted weakly.

"And you?" Voldemort asked, "Do you loathe children? Do you not wish an heir?"

Rodolphus looked uncomfortable.

"I require an heir, my Lord," he admitted finally.

"Well then prove you are worthy of your bloodline and impregnate your wife," Voldemort hissed, waving his hand at Rodolphus in clear dismissal. Rodolphus slanted a glare of hatred at Hermione. She didn't envy the man. If the woman hated children and he told her he had to knock her up on their Lord's orders all because Hermione was faster than her in a duel, he was in for rough evening.

He got to his feet without another word, stalking out of the sitting room and away through the Manor, clearly intent on locating his wife. Voldemort shook his head. Hermione glanced around the room at the rest of the gathered Death Eaters then. Snape looked uncomfortable and rather shocked. Narcissa and Lucius were sharing a worried glance.

When she looked at Draco, she noted that he looked almost sorry for his uncle and rather horrified by the notion of his aunt and uncle reproducing. He widened his eyes slightly at her, and Hermione got the message loud and clear that a child of Bellatrix Lestrange would not at all be a good thing. Bellatrix would torture it or kill it.

"She had one in Azkaban, my Lord," Rabastan interrupted the long silence as Voldemort mused after Rodolphus's departure.

"A child?" Narcissa hissed, her eyes going wide with horror.

Rabastan nodded.

"As husband and wife they shared a cell. No spells to prevent it without a wand," he shrugged, "She killed it."

Hermione felt ill.

"She…" Narcissa looked faint.

"Smothered it," Rabastan nodded again, "Didn't want to let the Dementors get its soul. Didn't want to deal with it."

Narcissa's lip trembled a moment before tears slipped down her cheeks. Clearly no one had known that. No one but the Lestrange brothers and Bellatrix, in any case.

"She threw the body from the window. Small enough to fit through the bars, it was. Tossed it into the sea," Rabastan continued, his tone indifferent.

Narcissa lost control then, dissolving into sobs against her husband's chest. Lucius looked ill as he held the woman close while she grew inconsolable. Snape looked disturbed. Hermione was horrified on the inside, though on the outside all she allowed to show was intrigue with the way Rabastan spoke so easily. He spoke quietly, to be sure, but that seemed common and not as a result of a sensitive subject. He seemed not to care at all that his niece of nephew had been murdered by his sister-in-law while they rotted in prison.

"She will have another now," Voldemort announced, clearly not caring about Bellatrix's past, "And she will raise it to adulthood unless she dies for the cause…. What of you Rabastan? Have you any heirs?"

"No, my Lord," Rabastan shook his head, leaning back in his chair and crossing his ankles.

"You will also need to amend that. You need a bride," Voldemort commented.

"Yes, my Lord," he agreed readily and Hermione didn't at all like the way he was eyeing her now, "I've got my eye on a potential wife. I'll see what I can do, shall I?"

"Yes, do that," Voldemort nodded.

Hermione didn't doubt the Dark Lord knew that Rabastan meant her. He just didn't care. He made no mention of Draco needing a wife and an heir either, which Hermione deemed to be a result of Malfoy being a werewolf.

"Did you hear, Narcissa, that your niece is expecting? Breeding with a werewolf," he clucked his tongue disapprovingly, "Draco, perhaps you could mind the cubs?"

Draco blanched and Hermione recognised the cheap shot the Dark Lord had taken. Unable to bite her tongue, Hermione leaned towards Snape.

"I thought Lycanthropy was not passed on genetically, Papa?" she murmured, just loud enough for them all to hear, "Is that not the case with British werewolves?"

Snape glanced at her and for all that his expression showed nothing but boredom, she could see the gleam in his eyes – hidden from the others behind his hair – at her tact. She feigned ignorance for the sake of salvaging some of Draco's pride. She'd actually done it out of fondness for Tonks and Remus, but that wasn't really the point.

"It is not passed on genetically," he answered in a deadpan voice, "Unless the infected savages the child, they will be born human."

Voldemort sniffed in annoyance over having his jest ruined. When the Dark Lord wasn't looking, Draco shot Hermione a grateful look. She didn't know really, how it was grateful, for his face was entirely blank of all expression. Yet there was a glimmer in his grey eyes that suggested he felt thankful for her comment nonetheless. Narcissa was still sobbing over Bellatrix's child.

"Tell us, Mina, about the spell you invented. The one you used on Bellatrix earlier today," Voldemort commanded.

"It was a blood boiling charm, my Lord," Hermione shrugged nonchalantly, "Designed – as the name suggests – to rapidly boil the blood of its victims. Prolonged exposure causes the victim's blood to boil much like water in a cauldron. The effects on the veins alone are fascinating, however the organs are most notably effected. As blood is required everywhere for bodily function to take place, they tend to rupture. The brain melts out the ears, the heart explodes in the chest and most of the other organs burst."

"You invented this?"

"Well, I don't know if I can claim credit my Lord. I've not come across the curse in any of my books… it might've been used in the past by other wizards and not recorded, I suppose," Hermione admitted.

"And you sought no counter curse?" he asked, seeming approving of her fascinated tone as she discussed the charm.

"I don't often seek to offer mercy to those I inflict the curse upon, my Lord," Hermione replied in a silky voice, "Mrs Lestrange would be the first."

"I'm sure Bella will be delighted to hear that," Voldemort smirked.

"I'm inclined to disagree, my Lord," Snape inserted dryly and Rabastan laughed.

"I must say, Severus, she seems an alarmingly nice fit for our organisation. Don't you agree?" Voldemort suggested then.

Snape looked over at her, as though considering things carefully as he eyed her. Hermione let the tiniest hint of a smirk show on her face. She realised Voldemort was asking if Snape thought she could be indoctrinated into the Death Eater ranks.

"She is still young, my Lord," Snape hedged, clearly trying to seem the tiniest bit a concerned father, "Not yet of age…"

"Neither was Draco when he took the Mark," Voldemort argued.

"She is…" Snape began before looking over at his Lord, "She is obviously aware of our organisation and practices, my Lord."

"Yes, otherwise she wouldn't address me such and speak of such curses in company," the Dark Lord agreed, "Do you think her worthy of the Mark?"

"So few are, my Lord," Snape replied rather than answering.

"Indeed, I have marked many who have proved to be… disappointing," here he shot a glare in the directions of Lucius and Draco, "Do you feel that Mina would similarly disappoint me Severus?"

Snape hesitated again and Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

"I would hope not, my Lord," Severus admitted finally, "What would you have her do to earn the Mark?"

Hermione felt dread trickle trough her as he waited for the answer.

"The usual things, Severus. You have not displeased me. I have no requirement for great feats from her. Only loyalty and the usual requirements."

"Requirements?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows at Snape, waiting for him to tell her what she would have to do to be branded a Death Eater. She didn't relish the idea of doing so, but recognised that she would have to if she wanted to take them down from inside.

"To be given the mark, you must sacrifice one you care for to the Dark Lord's cause," Snape replied.

"Ah," Hermione frowned a little, "Well, there we might hit a slight problem…"

"Problem?" Voldemort asked, looking intrigued.

"Yes, my Lord. You see… I have no one that I care about left… Except Severus."

"You have no friends?" Voldemort asked sceptically.

"Friends?" Hermione asked, "Does anyone truly have _friends_ , my Lord? Political allies of course, ex-lovers as well, and of course, enemies…. But with mi madre gone, there is no one I would consider to be up to the standard you ask for my sacrifice."

Hermione could tell her answer fascinated both Voldemort and Rabastan. Snape looked concerned and the Malfoys looked alarmed by her cold answer.

"Indeed? And the past lovers?" Voldemort asked. Here Hermione smirked at him across the coffee table.

"Do you imagine, my Lord, that I was forgiving or merciful when my time with my lovers met its end?" she asked with a sly expression, "I'm afraid they are all… shall we say, indisposed?... at the present time and therefore no longer able to assist in this venture."

"You murdered them?" Snape asked in a low voice, glancing at her.

"They served their purpose," Hermione replied evenly, flicking a glance at him.

"How inconvenient," Voldemort sighed, "Well, no matter. Murder is required, but as I'm not willing to sacrifice Severus, we will make do. Rabastan, my friend, bring us someone the girl can dispose of in order to receive her Mark this evening. I will hold another gathering."

"Of course, my Lord," Rabastan practically purred as he rose from his seat and strode from the room. He had a bounce in his step as he went and Hermione knew he was pleased with his task.

She herself felt ill at the idea of murdering some stranger, though she knew she had no choice. She only hoped he would find her a stranger. She couldn't bear the idea of it being someone she knew. Hermione took a deep breath through her nose, affecting a smile for present company as she watched Rabastan go. She wondered who Malfoy had been forced to kill. Unless the answer was that he was meant to kill Dumbledore and had failed.

"Now then," Voldemort smiled widely, clearly pleased with the turn of events. Hermione wondered if it seemed fast to all of them. He'd only met her earlier that afternoon and already he wanted to brand her. She had believed that he only branded those who were most important to him, marking them with his sigil to indicate their importance and their rank.

She realised with a jolt that he was doing it not because of her, though her feigned attitude had certainly helped matters. He was doing it to further entrap Snape within the cause. He was essentially a loose cannon. One whose loyalty had been called into question in the past. Voldemort clearly believed she was Snape's daughter, though he'd asked for no proof, indicating a certain level of trust in Severus. By indoctrinating Snape's daughter into the cause, he tied Snape to him more securely. He guaranteed what he believed to be leverage over Snape would be in his possession. She expected the same went for Malfoy being branded so young.

"Shall we adjourn for a spot of dinner?" Narcissa offered politely, noting the increasingly late hour.

"Yes, let's," Voldemort nodded.

"Trink?" Lucius snapped and the elf appeared, already cowering.

"Yes Master?"

"See to it that dinner is prepared. We will all dine this evening."

"Yes master," the elf squeaked before he disappeared again with a pop.


	6. Chapter 6: Information

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your support and reviews everyone. I'm so pleased you're enjoying the story and I hope you'll check out my other works in between updates on this. Side note this is the longest chapter so far at a whopping 12k words.**

 **Much love! =) xx-Kitten.**

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 **WARNING: This chapter contains references to and acts of a sexual nature, including mentions of slash, non-con, dub-con and perceived incestuous unions. It also contains a number of triggers that might make some of you delicate souls a little squeamish. Proceed with caution!**

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 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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 **Chapter 6: Information**

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 _... "Even if you ask me to stop, it's too late,_

 _It's pure hate and it pulsates, and works it's way around my brain._

 _Anyway, what I'm trying to say is;_

 _I'll protect you 'til the day I meet my maker,_

 _So don't fight me now, you might need me later"..._

- **Bloodsport (Raleigh Ritchie)**

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Hermione was seated next to Draco for dinner. She felt her nerves beginning to grow as she consumed her meal – the first decent one she had in weeks – and she tried to pay attention to the chatter that went on between Snape and Lucius Malfoy. They were filling the void of silence that pervaded the dining table with idle discussion about business, the state of the stock trade, the impending overthrow of the next section of the Ministry. Anything to fill the silence.

Narcissa stayed silent, picking at her food without contributing. Voldemort seemed uninterested in the meal and indeed he got up midway through, without excusing himself, and left the room. Draco ate his food like the wolf his was. He maintained perfect table manners, but he still ate much of what was in front of him. Hermione did the same. She was nervous, so her insides were twisting, but the hunger that had permeated her for weeks could not be denied. Not with fine, elf-made food before her once again. It certainly beat living on mushrooms.

Draco didn't speak to her or even look at her during the meal, clearly intent on his food. However, when the meal was over he turned to her with a sophisticated air.

"Might I offer you a tour of the grounds, Mina?" he inquired formally.

Hermione was startled by his request and she glanced towards Snape. He nodded almost imperceptibly at her, indicating she should accept Draco's offer.

"That would be lovely," Hermione smiled at Draco accepting the hand he offered to help her to her feet. Hermione supposed this was preferable to the rest of the evening ahead. At least with Malfoy she felt mildly safe. Hermione wondered how that could be. Last year Malfoy had been an annoying sod who was most likely a Death Eater that was to be avoided. Now she found herself grateful for his familiarity.

At least with Malfoy she felt confident she could best him in a duel, if it came to it.

"Right this way, my Lady," he practically purred, leading her from the room and through the Manor. The weather outside had calmed considerably – which Hermione could only ascertain meant that Voldemort was in a good mood – and while it was still cloudy, the summer evening was still light enough to see by. Malfoy lead her out a glass door and across a patio towards the gardens.

"How are you liking England?" he offered as a topic of conversation.

"It's rather wet, actually," Hermione commented honestly.

"Not everywhere," he replied, "Storms are more prevalent in the Dark Lord's vicinity."

Hermione nodded her agreement

"Will you tell me about Hogwarts?" she asked as they rounded a corner of the patio. She gave a startled squawk of surprise when Malfoy turned on her suddenly, roughly clasping her shoulders and shoving her back against the wall.

Before she could act to stop him he was leaning into her neck and Hermione heard the long indrawn breath he took, his nose buried just below her left ear.

"You smelled like her," he muttered, breathing in again as though trying to catch some scent.

"I must insist you remove yourself from my person, Draco," Hermione snapped sternly. The part of her that was Hermione Granger and had been tormented by him wanted to go for her wand and drive him back from her. The part of her that was Mina Graziana knew better. She needed to win Draco over – this entire situation would be more easily achieved with a nosey sod like Malfoy effectively under her wing and therefore not digging into things he ought not to meddle in.

"You smelled like that Mudblood earlier," he growled, his voice clipped and careful.

"The one Severus killed?" she feigned innocence.

"Granger," Malfoy nodded his head, his nose trailing along the edge of her jaw as though searching for something.

"I can assure you that it was probably only a result of accidentally brushing against her body whilst she was being transported here," Hermione lied, hoping he couldn't hear the lie in her voice.

"You look a bit like her too," he mutter, seeming to ignore her words, "Though much prettier."

"Are you saying you thought the mudblood was pretty, Malfoy?" Hermione heard herself ask.

"I'm saying you are," he responded and Hermione held still as he continued to sniff her. When he realised she wasn't trying to shove him away or fight him off, he released his hold on one of her arms and lifted his hand to tangle in her hair. Hermione allowed him to manhandle her pliantly. A voice in her head screamed at her not to, but she suspected it might be problematic to test him when he'd tried to bite her as a wolf a couple of hours ago.

He tipped her head to the side, turning her body slightly so he could stick his nose in the hair at the base of her neck where Snape had stuck his nose earlier.

"You smell like Severus too," he murmured, "And I can still smell a faint hint of Granger on you…"

"I only used a cleansing charm to remove the blood left on me by your victim," Hermione replied, unable to resist needling, "I've yet to bathe this evening. If there are remnants of the mudblood's scent still on me they must simply be there from earlier."

He pulled back from her slowly, peering into her face in the evening light.

"Satisfied?" Hermione asked, all too aware of the husky tone in her voice as he stared at her from such close proximity. She'd never been so close to anyone other than Ron as she was in that moment. His lower half pinned hers to the wall and his hand was still tangled in her hair.

His eyes flashed gold at her sultry question for just a moment, revealing the animal within him.

"You didn't raise your wand?" he asked rather than answering her.

"Did I need to?" Hermione countered, her eyes scanning his face carefully.

"Do you imagine that you're safe in the presence of a werewolf?" he asked bitterly, spitting the final word out with disdain.

"How long ago were you bitten?" Hermione asked quietly, her curiosity about his condition getting the better of her.

"Last summer," he replied evenly, still very much in her personal space. Hermione could feel his breath upon her face and his nose almost touched hers. She found herself peering into his eyes, noting the flecks of black and blue that marred the silver of his irises. She'd never noticed the colours before, never having been close enough nor having paid him much attention.

"When you were made a Death Eater?" Hermione wanted to know.

Draco flinched just the tiniest bit.

"Just after, actually. Had to wait for the full moon back then. Not like now," he shrugged, "You aren't afraid of me? I have you pinned to a wall and at my mercy."

"Do you imagine I intimidate easily, Draco?" Hermione allowed a predatory smile to spread across her face.

"Most do when they learn what I am," he shrugged.

"I don't fear werewolves," she replied, "And I don't fear Death Eaters. I will be one shortly, after all."

"You realise you must commit murder for the privilege?" he asked seriously, leaning back a little though he kept his lower half pressed against hers. Hermione suddenly found that while one of his hands leaned against the wall by her head, the other was still tangled in her hair at the nape of her neck. She also discovered – whether in some attempt to push him away, or perhaps some subconscious gesture – that she had placed one of her own hands on his hip, her fingers slipped through one of the belt loops on his trousers.

"Of course," she nodded.

"And that you'll have to endure the Cruciatus curse at the hands of the Dark Lord? You'll have to pledge your service to him. You'll be expected to come quickly every time he calls through the mark. You'll have to wear this brand," he pulled back the sleeve on the arm he leaned against the wall with, revealing the ugly stain of the Dark Mark on his pale flesh.

"I'm aware of those things, yes," Hermione nodded, "I will be affiliating myself with witches and wizards who have committed terrible and horrific acts. I will be loathed by do-gooders who oppose such things. I will be outcast among most of society should they learn of my allegiance."

Draco nodded his head and Hermione noticed the way he pulled his sleeve back down, hiding the mark once more before he returned his hand to her hair, tangling his fingers in the silky waves.

"You'll also be subjected to the revels," he told her quietly, looking over his shoulder carefully to make sure they wouldn't be overheard before going on.

"Revels?" Hermione asked, her eyes widening slightly.

"The Dark Lord likes to throw parties for his followers," Draco shrugged, "And all of the Death Eaters who bear the Dark Mark must participate. Most notably, the female Death Eaters are often expected by our Lord to… service… the men."

Hermione knew he could probably hear the way her heart paused it's beating inside her chest. Part of her was entirely too overwhelmed by Malfoy's presence. In any other moment, she'd have been fighting violently against being pressed into a wall by him so intimately. She'd have been disgusted and trying to pull away. The idea of being so close to him – in the past – would have resulted in her threatening him and doing her best to evade and avoid him.

Yet somehow, standing there with him leaning into her felt almost natural to Hermione. She couldn't rightly explain it. She'd never found Draco Malfoy to be attractive. His personality was simply too repugnant and his usual sneering smirk often rankled her. And yet, standing there against the wall of his family home, pressed intimately against him and feeling all too acutely what he had down his trousers, Hermione felt oddly at ease.

Or she had done, until he suggested the idea that when the Dark Lord branded her, she would be expected to play whore to the wizards in the Dark Lord's service.

"Are you suggesting that if the Dark Lord brands me, I'll be expected to lie down and let all of those twisted bastards fuck me?" she asked, horrified with her own language and yet entirely unable to hold it back. Fear made her feel ill. The idea that she would be expected to fuck Death Eaters made her feel like she would vomit. She had been considering the idea of using her body to sway those she felt prudent to her task of bringing down the Death Eater ranks – including Draco and Rabastan – but this was another idea entirely.

"Only at the revels, but yes. It's Aunt Bella's favourite part. The Dark Lord rarely participates, and only ever with Bella when he does. The others are – for lack of a better phrase – ravenous beasts. And coming from me, that certainly is saying something," Draco grimaced.

"You are not a ravenous beast by choice," Hermione shook her head, denying his self-loathing statement, "You were bitten against your will. I can tell by the glee the Dark Lord takes from taunting you and from your clear hatred of all things werewolf that you never wanted this and that you don't enjoy what you are… They'll really fuck me? All of them? Even you?"

"Probably not all of them," Draco shook his head, "But you're an anomaly. You bested Aunt Bella in a duel. You caught their attention. There is also the fact that you are Snape's daughter and many have been searching for a way to strike back at him for years. If they can do so through you, they will."

Hermione felt her knees give out beneath her. If not for Draco's body being so intimately pressed against hers, she'd have slipped to the floor in fear. She couldn't do it. This was too much. She was just one girl. She could handle the politics Slytherins participated in. She could be sly and underhanded. She could simper at the right people. She could even practice Dark magic against those she despised.

Those things were challenging, but achievable. The idea of becoming some sex doll for the scum of the Earth, on the other hand, was too much. She was shaking her head silently, Malfoy's weight against her holding her up, but barely.

"You get some say," Draco offered, clearly sensing and smelling the panic and fear rolling off her in waves, "But there will have to be at least three."

"Three?" Hermione asked, frowning in confusion.

Draco looked at her almost pityingly and she wondered if he could see through the Mina Graziana façade to the scared and horrified Hermione Granger underneath. She flinched when he removed his hand from her hair again, trailing the tips of his fingers to her lips.

"One," he counted, swiping his thumb almost tenderly along her bottom lip. Hermione restrained the urge to recoil from his touch. If felt unnerving and yet strangely pleasant to have him touching her so. Hermione didn't understand it. She'd never been interested in Draco Malfoy. Yet the feel of him against her – having him well inside her personal space – didn't upset her as she'd imagined it would. He felt strangely familiar – a life raft in this Dark sea where she'd been set adrift.

She quivered when he held her gaze as his fingers trailed down her chin to her chest, sliding between her breasts, over her abdomen and then lower. She wondered if he was testing her as he leaned away far enough to fit his hand between them and she tensed in surprise when his hand moved between her legs, cupping the junction of her thighs through her dress.

"Two," he murmured, his eyes still fixed on her face as he flexed his hand, his fingers pressing with uncanny precision against the little bundle of nerves at the top of her slit. Hermione squirmed against him, uncomfortable with being touched so intimately by anyone – unaccustomed to such things – and yet unable to keep herself from reacting.

Her eyes widened in horror when she realised what he meant to do as he slipped his hand further around, pressing it between her legs and towards her arse.

"Three," he counted softly, his eyes unwavering on her face as he told her in no uncertain terms just why it was she'd be needing to pick three wizards to shag in front of everyone. The very idea set panic alarms off inside her head.

"No!" Hermione whispered, "No. no. no. no. no. no!"

She shook her head frantically. It wasn't going to happen. She couldn't do it. It was icky and horrible. It was demeaning. It was too bloody much. She could –reluctantly – accept having to have sexual intercourse with some of these vile people. She could even wrap her mind around performing oral sex on some of them, should the need arise. But she could not abide the idea of anyone getting anything – any body part or other instrument – anywhere near her bottom. That was an out hole. It was supposed to be used for the expulsion of waste from her body and nothing else. She couldn't even begin to fathom the notion of allowing anyone to sodomise her in such a way.

"It's expected," Malfoy told her quietly, his hand moving forward once more until it rested intimately against the junction of her thighs. It was warm as he pressed it against her slit. In any other instance, Hermione would've been horrified to have Draco Malfoy touching her so, and yet the horror of what he was telling her was far too distracting and disgusting for her to care about the idea of his hand cupping her vagina through her clothing. What was a touch through fabric when she'd be expected to bend over and have someone's penis rammed into her bottom?

"I don't care if it's expected," Hermione argued, shaking her head violently, her voice hissing with fury and disgust, "I'm not a blasted sex-doll! People can't just go prodding whichever parts of me they want!"

"I would say, 'then don't become a Death Eater', but you're not going to have a choice. The Dark Lord sees you as a way to control Severus, so he's bringing you into the fold," Draco told her, his hand still cupping her body. Hermione shuddered against him when he pressed with his fingertips, applying subtle pressure to her clitoris through the clothing she wore. It was entirely improper and yet again, she felt strangely comfortable with Malfoy.

She wondered about it. How could it be so? Just yesterday, had she been told she might enjoy the feel of being groped by Malfoy, she'd have vehemently denied the accusation and suggested the use of a Confundus charm being placed upon the speaker. Yet here she stood, not only comfortable with being touched by him, but mildly enjoying the feel of his warm hand pressed against her so intimately. There was something comforting about being touched. As though he was anchoring her with the touch where she otherwise might've drifted into a fury or even become deluded enough to think that this could just be some terrible dream she was having.

"This has to be a joke?" she asked quietly, eyeing him speculatively, "You're messing with me?"

"I'm not. I wish I were joking. I hate attending the revels. The things that take place…" he trailed off with a shudder, clearly too disturbed to mention them, "However, the Dark Lord and his followers will insist on having you broken in properly. They believe that without carnal knowledge, Dark magic is less effective."

"But I already have carnal knowledge," Hermione protested, her eyes widening.

"Clearly not with three men at once. Not in any other manner of perversion that they so enjoy. Your reaction suggests you've not been with more than one wizard at a time in the past – and not anywhere but here," Draco replied, flexing his fingers against her vagina again.

"I understand the idea of pleasure being one of the strongest foundations for Dark magic, but I don't see how being treated like a leaky bathtub and having all my holes plugged would be in anyway pleasurable for me," Hermione argued hotly, squirming against his hand as her cheeks turned pink.

"Who said it was about you?" Draco wanted to know, and Hermione felt ill.

"I won't do it," she argued with him.

"You will. Resisting will only make things worse. You're already an anomaly. If you try to fight the way of things, you'll be subjected to worse."

"What could be worse?" Hermione wanted to know, feeling sick to her stomach. She noticed idly that she was now gripping both of his hips firmly, her nails digging into him through his shirt. Pulling him closer. Holding onto him as she tried to anchor herself and not fly into an indignant rant about women's rights, propriety and what horrible monsters the Death Eaters were that she would be forced into such things. It was made all the more insulting – in her opinion – that she would not only have to endure the notion, but also have to smile and pretend she liked it and wanted to be used and brutalised that way.

"You really don't want me to answer that," Draco told her almost sympathetically and Hermione felt a terrible sense of dread form in the pit of her stomach when she saw the all-too-knowing gleam in his eyes. He clearly knew how things could be worse. Hermione felt a sickening sense of certainty that he'd been subjected to worse. The idea sickened her. She'd never much liked Draco Malfoy, but from the look in his eyes, it seemed the once proud, bigoted, snobbish boy he'd been, had endured things no-one should have to endure.

"You've already told me they are going to effectively gang rape me," she replied, her stomach turning "What more could they do?"

"Torture you while they do it?" he suggested with a shrug, but there was a bitterness to his tone that made her think he'd experienced just that, "Literally use you like a recyclable doll and pass your around the group until everyone has a turn and jizz is gushing from your every orifice. Inflict such pain upon you that you'll beg for the time when they only wanted to plug your holes. Trust me, Mina, it can get a _lot_ worse."

"But I…" Hermione protested before she stopped herself. Arguing was pointless. That much was clear. Unless she was to run right that second, she would simply have to accept what she was going to have to do. She narrowed her eyes on Draco thoughtfully as she realised he was being entirely too helpful. In this place full of enemies, he seemed to be being nice to her and she'd never trusted him.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Severus is my godfather," Draco shrugged, "He knew when I suggested a walk that someone would need to tell you these things. You'll be one of only nine female Death Eaters, and most of them weren't informed of this requirement before they were marked. You're also the only other person my age who will be a Death Eater."

"Oh so you're telling me out of the charity in your heart over my possible hurt feelings in the event of the surprise?" Hermione asked sarcastically.

"I'm telling you because you helped me earlier today when you didn't have to," Draco disagreed, "And because either way you're going to have to shag some of our brethren."

"At least three?" Hermione clarified, trying shut up the indignant screaming inside her head and be logical about this.

"More would be better, but the Dark Lord lets some of the other women get away with only fucking three. However, showing particular distaste for anyone in particular will make the Dark Lord more likely to insist on that person being someone you shag if you irritate him," Draco warned her, "For example, Greyback's behaviour earlier… if you show any distaste for him when you next see him, beyond what most wizards show for werewolves, the Dark Lord will inflict him upon you at some stage. He enjoys forcing all of us into things we would never ordinarily or willingly do. He believes that the more depraved we are, the stronger we will be. He also likes to force us into such things, using what we might not want getting out against us."

"Of course he does," Hermione sighed tipping her head back to look up at the sky and reaching for patience as she tried to find her Gryffindor courage. She needed to be able to do this. She needed to play the part of Mina Graziana. And she was fast learning that Mina Graziana and Hermione Granger were far removed from each other.

She suspected the only way she would get through this would be to be entirely logical. And to split her personality into two. The Hermione Granger who blushed over the idea of sex at all and the Mina Graziana, who would essentially be little better than a trollop for the perverted pleasure of others. _And never the twain shall meet_ , she thought bitterly.

"Do all three have to be at once?" she asked, her eyes closed as she tipped her head against the wall. Her mind was so focused on the horror of their discussion that she was almost grateful for the way he'd begun rhythmically pressing and rubbing his hand against her lady garden. It was a most welcome distraction and that very fact spoke of how utterly unsettled she truly was.

"Usually, though if there are more than three, they tend to trade off. Someone will go until they blow their load and then another takes his place," Malfoy answered her grimly. He sounded distracted by the task he was undertaking.

"In other words strong cleansing charms and the strongest contraceptive and health potions will be required. I'm not going to let anyone stick their prick in my arse and then move to my mouth. The other way, if I must, but…." she sighed.

"You realise your mouth will be too occupied to emit orders or voice objections, right?" Malfoy asked and Hermione lowered her gaze to meet his eyes.

"You realise I have teeth and I'm not afraid to use them if anyone pisses me off, right?" she asked in return and he grinned at her ferally, his eyes flashing lupine again, "When do these revels take place?"

"Not very often. Usually only as a distraction in the aftermath of a bad run in with the Order of the Phoenix, or as a rev up before a battle of some kind," Draco told her, "I've only been to two."

Hermione eyed him carefully.

"Did they…?" she asked, looking into his eyes and wondering if he'd been sodomised. She suspected he had. The way his expression grew stormy and furious told her all she needed to know. He'd been fucked. His mouth. His arse. He'd been used the way they intended to use her and she'd bet they'd tormented him mercilessly while they'd done it too. Hermione realised with a horrid twist of the knife that being turned into a werewolf was perhaps the least of the punishments Draco Malfoy had endured.

"The Dark Lord believes in the use of recreational potions for such events," Draco snarled through gritted teeth, the wolf inside his soul glittering in his eyes, "Though why anyone would give ravenous beasts like that lot a lust potion is beyond me. We're all given them before a revel. Severus makes them. They're flawless. The only separations offered are that if two people are related, they don't shag. And that's only if it's strongly requested. With currently only eight female Death Eaters, and the scum of the earth among the ranks, rape of one's brethren is not uncommon. There are other females brought in, of course, muggles and mudbloods and half-bloods that are abused terribly. Most don't survive a night at a revel."

"I feel ill," Hermione announced, her stomach roiling violently with the urge to vomit.

"And you haven't even been raped yet," he replied darkly.

"Why are you telling me these things, Draco?" Hermione asked him softly, the icy part of her that had loathed him so long in their youth thawing as she realised all he'd suffered. The righteous and well-meaning girl living inside her soul couldn't stand such suffering being inflicted upon anyone – even nasty bullies who'd teased her at every opportunity. He might've needed a good thumping, but she'd never have wished the horrors of gang-rape and other less thinkable evils upon him. She wouldn't wish that on anyone.

"Because you have a right to know the types of people you'll be rubbing shoulders with. If I were you, I'd run. You've got one more month until you are legally an adult and don't need a guardian. Find somewhere to hide in the muggle world until then and never look back. Not until this war is over."

"Do you think it will ever be over without Hermione Granger? Wasn't she the brains of Potter's resistance?" Hermione asked, her hands tied to where she currently was, no matter the reprehensible things she would face. She wanted more than anything to run back to the Order – to return to her friends and loved ones. To fight the evil she was facing. But she knew she couldn't. She'd been introduced as Snape's daughter and she would be hunted down if she fled. More to the point, she would be conspicuous amongst the Order and would give away that Snape had lied about killing her. Then he'd be killed.

"They're screwed without her," Draco admitted, "Mudblood maybe, but too fucking smart. If I could, I'd run. I'd flee to some distant continent and not look back."

"The mark prevents you from doing so?" Hermione asked. She barely noticed the subconscious way she pulled him closer, her grip on his hips tight as he pressed against her intimately again. If he minded being pulled closer to her, he didn't let on. His hand still cupped her sex as well, though his fingers no longer prodded her. He simply rested his hand there, wedged between their bodies and snug between her legs as though he belonged there. Hermione supposed that until this war was over, he kind of did.

She'd already decided she was going to fuck him. That she would use him to her advantage, both for her own protection from the others and also as a means of appearing to revel in the position she found herself. She wouldn't delude him into thinking they could be a couple – not when she meant to fuck others as well with the intention of fuelling their goodness by tricking them into fancying her. She would fuck him to control him and she would use him to teach her all he knew about the other Death Eaters and how to survive this Dark underworld.

"No," he shook his head, "It's not easily used for tracking. But this is my home. My parents are here, practically prisoners in their own house. If I left, they'd be killed. But you can still run. Snape can slither his way out of just about anything with the Dark Lord. I've seen him do so."

"Maybe he can," Hermione admitted, knowing her Potions master well, "But I can't do it. I have nowhere else to go and no one else to care for."

"You'd rather stay here?" Malfoy asked, his eyes widening, "You'd rather be brutalised because most of these fuckers have a problem with your father? You'd rather be subjected to torment for the entertainment of others?"

"No, I wouldn't," she admitted softly, holding his gaze as she realised just how different Draco Malfoy was from the boy she'd thought him to be, "But where else is there to go? If the war is won by the Dark Lord - which is likely without that brainy mudblood - then the reign of terror will not simply stop within Britain. It will spread to other continents. Muggles will be subjected to torture all over the globe. Mudbloods will be prosecuted. Witches and wizards will either join the Dark cause or rise up alongside the Order of the Phoenix. If the Dark Lord wins against Harry Potter, the world will be doomed. I think I know where I'd rather be."

"Better the devil you know?" Draco asked grimly, nodding along with the summation.

"Not necessarily," Hermione argued softly, "More like, better safe and on this side of the wands than the other. I've seen what Death Eaters can do."

"You're not safe here. Bella and Rodolphus are dangerous."

"With the right motivation, Draco, everyone is dangerous. You're dangerous. You can turn into a mindless, ravenous wolf and rip into human flesh without a care. You're also a dark wizard capable of terrible deeds. Just because the Dark Lord is currently not favouring your family doesn't mean you are any less capable of brutality. More to the point, I'm dangerous. I can and will kill. I have before. I can do it again."

"You'll turn on your fellow Death Eaters?" he asked, raising his eyebrows challengingly.

"I'll turn on anyone who turns on me," Hermione nodded, "If Bellatrix and her husband wish to murder me, they will find the feeling mutual. If they wish to torture me, they will be introduced to the side of me I've thus far kept to myself."

"You've already admitted to killing and you've already tortured her," he pointed out, "What other side could there be?"

Hermione felt a predatory smile curl across her lips then. It wasn't a smile that had previously belonged to Mina Graziana. It was the smile that was entirely Hermione Granger's vindictive streak showing through. She didn't use it often – tended to keep it chained. It was the side that had cursed a list of names for the DA and permanently marred the appearance of a traitor. It was the side that had sacrificed a human being – admittedly a horrid one – to the wrath of vengeful centaurs. Hermione felt no remorse over having subjected Dolores Umbridge to being raped and tortured by an entire herd of angry centaurs.

She'd known already that there was some darkness inside her. She didn't let it out for fear of what she might become. But Mina Graziana was going to need that side. She lifted one hand to trail the backs of her fingers over Draco Malfoy's sharp cheek, still smiling like a hungry wolf.

"Pray you never see it, Draco," she whispered to him, "Like I said. I belong here."

He stared at her in silence for a long time.

"I thought you might be her," he whispered after what felt like hours, "I thought you might be Granger in disguise. You still smell like her. And you look a bit like her. I thought… somehow… but you can't be… she could never be what you are."

Hermione felt her heart squeeze in her chest at his words. She supposed this meant she'd passed an important test. It would do no good to have him knowing the truth. She also wondered at the almost sad look in his eyes at the thought that Hermione Granger was truly dead. That she wasn't secretly living on. It was as though his hopes of getting free of this terrible life were draining out of him like air from a balloon.

"Why do I feel comfortable with you?" Hermione asked, rather than commenting, her fingers still caressing his cheek and noticing the way his eyes flashed to wolf again for just a moment.

"I don't know," he admitted, "I unsettle most. Being in the presence of a werewolf is usually call for nervousness, but you're not afraid of me."

"You can smell fear?" she asked, intrigued. She'd always suspected Remus had more abilities than he admitted. It was interesting to know it was true.

"I'm a predator," he shrugged, "It's an instinct. I might look human, but there's a beast inside me."

"You should unleash it," Hermione informed him, realising she'd need him to be stronger. His admissions thus far suggested he was scared and weak – which she'd suspected – but she'd also realised that him being a victim meant she cared. And she couldn't allow anyone she cared about to simply roll over and take everything that was thrown at them. Not without getting herself into trouble by trying to help.

"You want me to shift? I nearly infected you when I tried to bite you," he said, his eyes widening in alarm at her words.

"Don't be thick," Hermione commanded, rolling her eyes, "I assume by this secretive conversation we've shared that you and I are now allies. Am I right?"

He nodded his head.

"Then I suggest you stop sulking over being a werewolf, embrace it and embrace the fact that you are a Death Eater. You might not want to be either, but neither of us have much of a choice. And I don't need an ally who lets everyone else push him around. You can savage people at will if they anger you. Do so."

He stared at her in surprise as though he'd never considered that idea before. Not without somehow turning into Greyback. Hermione understood that fear. She wouldn't allow him to become a monster, but she would push him to be the arrogant, self-righteous boy he'd been before his confidence had been shattered by being turned into a werewolf and used like a sex-toy.

"Now," Hermione went on, "What do I do about the idea of the revels? Obviously I'm going to have to accept being used like a prostitute at each one. Do you have recommendations of anyone who won't be completely vile? Other than you, obviously?"

"Picking me as one of your three then?" he smirked and Hermione caught sight of the haughty, arrogant boy he'd been in fifth year. She couldn't begin to describe how pleased she was to see him. Which felt odd, given that she'd never liked him that way.

"Do you object?" she wanted to know, returning the smirk with one of her own, doing her best to imitate his expression.

"No," he shook his head, grinning cockily now, "The other two though… I don't know."

"Rabastan?" Hermione asked, wondering what he could tell her about his uncle's brother.

Draco made a face.

"He's twisted. Not as twisted as Bella of Rodolphus, but still twisted. Very loyal to the Dark Lord…"

"I don't much care about his loyalty," Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "He seemed like one of the younger Death Eaters in the group and I don't fancy the idea of being shagged by men old enough to be my grandfather. All I need to know is if he'll degrade and defile me or if he'll be decent enough."

"I've never fucked him…" Draco began, shrugging, "All I know about him is that he's twisted. He fancies you though. His loathing for Bella rivals yours…. I suppose he'd be decent enough. And it will amuse the Dark Lord. Inside, at the meeting earlier, he meant you when he suggested Rabastan find himself a wife."

"I know," Hermione nodded, "Though they're dreaming if they think I'm marrying anyone while I'm still at school. What about a third person?"

"To be honest the other person I'd suggest would usually be Severus, but he's your father, so that's out…" Draco admitted, "I've seen what he does at revels. He doesn't often participate, though I don't know how he convinces the Dark Lord to excuse him. But he was made to participate in the last revel…."

"I'm not going to shag my father," she rolled her eyes, though honestly, if she could get away with shagging Snape – precisely because they weren't actually related and she trusted him - she would. However, that would blow their cover or be irrefutably disturbing so he wasn't an option.

"At some stage, the Dark Lord will make you shag Rodolphus," Draco warned her, "It will tickle him pink to think of the animosity that will grow between you and Bella. You share some of her traits and the idea that you're a younger, prettier and less mad version of her will eat away at her if her husband shags you. Especially with the Dark Lord insisting on her being knocked up. Actually he might try to make you shag Bella too."

"I'm not choosing Rodolphus as one of the three," Hermione insisted, "He'll hurt me and while I'm not virgin, I'm also not a slut. I'm not ready to be brutalised. Yet."

"Probably," Draco mused and Hermione discovered that during their conversation while she'd been distracted, he'd begun pressing her with his fingers again. So much so that she was rolling her hips against him a little. She rationalised it away the way she was doing with everything else.

At the end of the day, grinding Draco Malfoy was hardly the worst thing she'd done that day. In fact, it was probably one of the better ones. She kind of hated herself for the fact that her body was responding to his so easily. She'd been dating Ron until a few hours ago. Technically Hermione Granger still was dating Ron. It was Mina Graziana who was the conniving, sly, cunning Slytherin daughter of a Death Eater and soon to be a Death Eater and a whore.

"Any other suggestions? Preferably those that won't involve incest," Hermione asked him.

"Greyback," Draco suggested as he leaned into her further, nuzzling his nose along her jaw and towards her neck. Hermione felt the little hairs all over her stand up at the feel as he trailed his warm lips down the side of her throat, his hot breath teasing her skin.

"I just said I don't want to be brutalized," Hermione reminded him, tipping her head to the side and surrendering her throat to him. Part of her was screaming about the horror of what she was doing but Hermione shut that voice out. If she was going to be expected to shag several men at one – several reprehensible men – then she would need practice. Things would be much easier if she got used to being with Draco before that day came. For all she knew she might be expected to participate in a revel that very evening since the Dark Lord seemed intent on branding her within hours of having met her.

"I know," he murmured, and Hermione shivered in his hold when he nipped her jaw, "But eventually you'll be asked to fuck him too. The sooner you're seen to be fucking those that are considered the vilest to you, the less likely it is that you'll have to shag the entire brethren."

"I think I'd rather the rest of them to that monster. He's a cannibal!" Hermione argued, her fingers dragging his shirt from inside his trousers, untucking it with the intent of getting her hands under the fabric. She felt the strangest urge to run her fingers over his flesh.

"So am I, technically," he muttered.

"Not by choice," Hermione argued, though she felt mildly ill at the idea. She didn't doubt that every werewolf was. Even Remus. She knew the reason the self-loathing was so strong in werewolves was the complete loss of self and loss of control beneath the full moon. Those without access to Wolfsbane suffered terribly and if they ran across a human under the full moon, they feasted.

"He'll hurt you," Malfoy murmured between the hot kisses and nips he was delivering to her neck, "But he'll hurt you less if you choose him by choice."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked worriedly even as she slipped her hands under Draco's shirt, smoothing them over his taut abdomen and around his back, pressing him closer.

"Positive," Draco replied, "He believes he is hard done by and takes it out on everyone. Discrimination is like a drug to him. Makes him all the more violent. If he could get away with it, he'd fuck and eat the Dark Lord."

Hermione curled her lip at the idea.

"That doesn't inspire me to want to pick him."

"If you do pick him, he'll most likely be as gentle as he can, knowing you actually want him."

"I don't want him," Hermione argued, "The idea of having him touch me makes my skin crawl."

"Because he's a werewolf?" Malfoy asked carefully, stilling against her neck and Hermione realised he was far touchier about his condition than he was letting on.

"Because he's vile and cruel and the spiteful type who would eat someone whilst in human form if he was angry or just hungry," Hermione corrected, "I would think that my being here and clinging to you would suggest I have no prejudices against werewolves. It's not because of what he is that he's vile, it's because of what he does. The choices he makes."

"You were just encouraging me to make the same choices," he argued, pulling back to glare into her eyes.

"No, Malfoy, I was telling you to stop curling your tail between your legs and letting them crawl all over you. You're not some dog to be whipped for their amusement. Greyback might be vile, but even he knows that. I'll bet that's why he's Alpha. The rest of you are too self-loathing and too fearful of the beast within to embrace it. He just takes it too far. It's one thing to accept what you are and use it to your advantage when required. It's another to revel in it and practice reprehensible deeds needlessly," Hermione informed him hotly. She'd had the same argument with Remus once before, urging him to desist his self-loathing when she'd caught him trying to poison himself with lethal levels of chocolate – knowing it made him ill. Knowing it made all werewolves ill.

Malfoy's eyes flashed at her again, the beast inside him peeking out. She wondered idly if it was a result of the way Greyback had managed to overcome the need for the moon in order to waken the beast. Perhaps he'd found some way to keep it awake all month long. She heard the little growl that emitted from him and Hermione quivered in surprise when he leaned in quickly and captured her lips with his.

Hermione was so surprised by the notion of snogging him that she didn't even put up a fight. His lips brushed hers hungrily, his tongue licking at the seam of her lips until she parted them, granting him entrance to her mouth. She was overwhelmed by his kiss after that. He tasted of the whiskey he'd been drinking at dinner and his tongue swept in to tangle with hers hotly. Hermione let her eyes drift closed at the sensation.

She'd heard a rumour at Hogwarts – probably started by him or Parkinson – that he was gifted sexually. If he could snog this well, Hermione didn't doubt it. She gave herself over to the idea of this act. She silenced the parts of her that objected in horror. In fact, Hermione let her mind shut off completely, simply choosing to feel what he was doing to her. She dug her nails into his back, urging him for more as she tangled her tongue around his, licking at him, nipping his lips hungrily.

He pressed her into the wall harder, and Hermione could feel the evidence of his desire for her pressing into her stomach. His hands groped at her breasts through her robes, pressing her harder still as he snogged her manically. When he pulled away from her lips they were both breathing hard and Malfoy immediately nipped his way along her jaw and down her throat again. He growled with approval when she tipped her head to give him full access to her neck. It was clear he liked how much she trusted him not to rip it out with his teeth – knowing he could if he wanted to.

Hermione heard the little hum of delight that escaped her at his ministrations and she was enjoying his touch too much to care.

The sound of someone loudly clearing their throat interrupted the moment and Hermione hissed when Draco nipped her throat a little too hard in surprise. He pulled back from her with a growl and Hermione could see the crimson stain of her blood on his mouth. She ignored it in favour of seeking out the source of the interruption. A faint blush tinged her cheeks when her eyes landed on Snape. He was standing with his arms folded over his chest, eyeing the two of them coldly.

"Severus?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows. There was a possessive growl in his tone as though he was annoyed with the interruption and meant to return to ravishing her.

"Have you filled Mina in on what being a female Death Eater will entail, Draco?" Snape asked coolly and Hermione found herself impressed with his ability to sound entirely like their disapproving teacher in addition to a pissed off father who's just discovered someone defiling his daughter.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Draco asked in response.

"Mina?"

"It's true," Hermione shrugged, "He told me all about it. How many revels am I likely to have to attend?"

"There is usually one every few month unless there is a special occasion of some kind," Snape informed her, "I need to speak with you. Privately. Before the meeting tonight where you will receive your mark."

"Will there be a revel tonight?" Hermione asked him needing to know the answer. If there was going to be, Hermione would be retiring to shag Draco as soon as she could. She'd only ever had sex once and it had been with Ron earlier in the summer, just before the wedding when they'd gone on the run. She had very little experience with intercourse and she didn't plan to receive all of it in a public forum before lots of witnesses.

"It is unlikely," Severus informed her, "Revels are not generally held simply for someone being Marked. There won't be one until the Dark Lord wins a victory or until we suffer a loss."

"Granger's murder won't count?" Draco asked.

"No. It is no victory to the Dark Lord to kill one mudblood. Even if that mudblood is Potter's closest and most valued friend and asset. I expect there won't be another revel until the Ministry is entirely under our control – perhaps a month from now," Snape told them, "Mina? A word?"

Draco took the hint to get lost, though Hermione quivered when he glanced at her before leaning in and licking the side of her throat where she could feel a sting. She knew it was where he'd accidentally nipped her and that he was licking away the blood. It unnerved her that he did it so casually, as though the idea of tasting someone else's blood didn't repulse him. When he was done he pushed away from the wall, stalking past Snape and away into the Manor.

Snape beckoned her towards the gardens, still visible despite the evening. Summer provided light late into the evening, so it wasn't yet dark though it was almost eight o'clock.

"Are you alright?" Snape asked her, not speaking until they were deep inside the gardens, inviting her to sit beside him on a garden bench. He waved his wand, casting Notice-Me-Not and muffling charms to keep them from being interrupted or overheard.

"What do you think?" Hermione asked sarcastically, "I'm to be used like a sex toy for the amusement of others and have no choice now but to become a Death Eater. He thinks I'm your kid, so he wants to trap me like he trapped Draco in order to better punish you."

"I warned you of the distasteful things you would see and do if you came with me, Miss Granger," Snape replied coldly.

"You could've let me go back to the Order," Hermione argued.

"You'd never have stayed put and faking your death would have been for nothing. Then I'd be killed for lying."

"Snape, they're going to fuck me in every orifice simultaneously. In front of people!" Hermione snarled, spinning to glare at him furiously for his words, even if he was right.

"I'm aware," he nodded his head.

"What the hell is wrong with these people? The other women just put up with it?" she demanded.

"It was their idea," Snape informed her, "Bella's actually. From during the First War. She was young and beautiful and entirely too promiscuous. And she's an exhibitionist. She adores being the centre of attention during a revel."

"And the others?"

"There is a reason most women do not become Death Eaters," Snape answered tightly, "Lucius refused to allow Narcissa to join the ranks when she suggested it to save Draco."

"What the hell do I do?" Hermione asked, her terror returning now. Snogging and petting Draco had distracted her somewhat from her fear but it was returning now.

"Are you a virgin?" Snape asked, his cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink.

"No," Hermione admitted, also blushing, "But Ron and I only ever…. You know… once."

"As much as I do not want details, I'm going to assume that the two of you remained in the missionary positon during intercourse?" Snape said, pinching the bridge of his nose as though she frustrated him.

"You have an extraordinary ability to make everything sound clinical," Hermione informed him, "Tell me what I'm supposed to do about the idea of three men penetrating my mouth, my arse and my vagina simultaneously when two of those orifices are virginal."

Snape eyed her for her bluntness, clearly shocked. Hermione rolled her eyes at the very idea of him being disapproving of her language when she was facing the idea of what amounted to gang-rape. The last thing she cared about right then was using foul language.

"What do you want to do about it?" he asked her, clearly thinking carefully about the entire situation, "I assume Draco was assisting you?"

"He told me I'll have to choose at least three people," Hermione sighed, "As you can imagine, since he's the only one my age, he'll be one of the three."

"And the other two? You've obviously accepted having to do this…" Snape said quietly.

"I thought Rabastan," Hermione admitted, "It will amuse the Dark Lord somewhat and I suspect he'll try something regardless. He's also younger than I expected."

"Picked up on that did you?" Snape drawled, raising his eyebrows, "Rabastan is only thirty-two."

"You're thirty-seven, aren't you?" she asked, eyeing him carefully. Draco had suggested him, and Hermione could only assume he'd had a reason for it, other than the Professor's somewhat younger age than most.

"How did you know that?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"You were in the same year as Harry's mum and dad, I did the math," she shrugged.

"Who did you think for the third?" Snape asked, changing the subject.

"Draco suggested you, actually," Hermione said carefully, "Though he dismissed it on the grounds of it being incestuous – according to our cover."

Snape's face lost all hint of expression as he stared at her. Hermione suspected he knew where she was going with this.

"Who?" he asked and Hermione knew he wouldn't discuss the idea further. Not until he knew the answers.

"Greyback," Hermione admitted grimly and Snape's face blanched, his eyes widening at her in utter shock, "Don't look at me like that! I didn't like the idea either, but Malfoy suggested it. He believes that after what happened today when I vomited at the sight of him eating whom they believed to be me, that the Dark Lord will inflict the cannibal on me at some stage. Him and Rodolphus and probably some others. Draco thinks that if I willingly choose Greyback it will take some of the wind out of the Dark Lord's sails. He also thinks that Greyback will be… decent… if I choose him willingly rather than recoiling and fighting the notion."

"Draco's spent much too long listening to Lucius and I scheming," Snape replied, narrowing his eyes, "As he's probably correct. You won't be expected to shag Rodolphus until Bellatrix is well enough to be out and about again, and probably not until she is pregnant and vulnerable. Greyback is another matter. He's technically not a Death Eater, as the Dark Lord does not deign to mark beasts. Draco is an exception to the rule – punishment for Lucius's misdeeds at the Ministry."

"Do you think they'll hurt me?" Hermione asked him carefully, moving over to sit next to him and ceasing her pacing.

"Yes," he admitted, "As will Draco – though probably not intentionally. Did he tell you about the Lust Potion?"

"Yes," Hermione admitted, "He said you make it, so it's effective."

"He's correct," Snape nodded, "You will be administered a small dose, I imagine. If they think they can humiliate you by making you uncomfortable, they will do so. You will need to pretend you are for the idea, as the other female Death Eaters do, else you will be sent into hell sober while all the men are drugged into being rutting animals."

"There's no way out of this?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"None. The Dark Lord seeks to control me by using you. The others of my brethren will undoubtedly wish to humiliate and degrade you, thinking it will be retaliation against me for the treatment I have dealt them in the past," Snape sighed, "It was foolish, in hindsight, to have them think you are related to me."

"You think?" Hermione replied scathingly, "Draco said you're able to get out of it often….how?"

"The Dark Lord can be convinced of my requirement to stay sober and inactive in order to effectively ensure no one overdoses on the potion or is poisoned by it. He might not much like most of his followers, but he can't be seen to be neglecting their wellbeing in such a way. I stay sober often under the pretence of monitoring the situation and ensuring no one dies unless they're supposed to."

Hermione felt sick at the clinical way he spoke. It was entirely too horrible to even contemplate.

"What do I do?" Hermione asked, "They're going to force themselves on me even if I 'choose' them. I can handle Malfoy, I think, and I could handle regular intercourse, but I've never experimented with oral or anal. I'm not exactly a veteran with vaginal intercourse either…"

"What are you getting at, Miss Granger?" Snape asked her coolly, glancing sideways at her.

Hermione got the impression that if she didn't meet the challenge he posed head on and outright ask him – possibly beg him – for his help, he would not offer it.

"Draco mentioned you for a reason," Hermione shrugged, "And I get the feeling it's not as a result of the fact that I know you. He thought of you. Probably because you're younger than a lot of those other bastards. But I get the feeling the other reason was because you wouldn't brutalise whoever you're shagging."

She bit her tongue when his face remained unchanged. She was going to have to say it.

"I suspect he suggested you because you're good at sex," Hermione sighed, her cheeks turning pink over the idea of discussing her Professor's sex life, "If you dedicate yourself to the art the same way you do with Potions, teaching and just about everything else, I imagine you're an expert."

"Do you have a point?" he asked, neither confirming nor denying her guess.

"Yes. I'm asking you to fuck me," Hermione said, turning her head and meeting his cold black-eyed gaze, knowing he would not entertain the notion of committing the act with her if she could not even talk about it with him, "I'm asking you to teach me so that I won't become hysterical and thereby embarrass myself and you in front of them all whenever there happens to be a revel. You've already agreed to teaching me everything you know about the Dark Arts and about Occlumency. Inside you also agreed to tutoring me in Potions. I think it best if my education from you is well-rounded and means I know literally everything you know."

"They believe I'm you parent, Miss Granger," he reminded her, his expression unchanged.

"Mina," Hermione bit out, "Hermione Granger is dead, Professor. The things I have done today and the things I will do in the future are reprehensible and cannot be rationalised by Hermione Granger. Mina Graziana is another matter."

A knowing look came into his eyes.

"You have stumbled on the idea of separating yourself from what you will do by being someone else. It seems I don't even need to teach you everything," he murmured.

"Yes well, as you so often point out, I'm not a fool," Hermione replied, "Hermione can't reconcile the things Mina will do. I can handle that. I can't handle walking into an orgy as what basically amounts to being untouched."

"You want me to touch you?" he asked and Hermione could swear that he was covering his own awkwardness with cockiness over the idea. It surprised her a little.

"Yes," she answered bluntly, "Obviously they can't find out, since they think you're my father. But you're not. We are in no way related and the lines between us will only continue to be blurred as this façade plays out. I'm asking you to teach me and prepare me for the things I will need to endure if I hope to keep the pair of us alive."

"And Draco?" he asked, wrinkling his brow a little bit.

"I'm not asking you to date me, Professor," Hermione rolled her eyes, "I'm asking you to educate me. I'm not stupid enough in this situation to delude anyone into thinking I'll be their girlfriend or – merlin forbid – their wife. I'll most likely be shagging Draco sporadically, even outside of revels. It makes sense and keeps him in confidence with me. He's also far more damaged than you realise."

"You've allied yourself with him?" Snape wanted to know.

"I have. He urged me to try fleeing rather than taking the Dark Mark. Said he'd have fled himself if not for the harm that would befall Lucius and Narcissa. He's so psychologically damaged over being a werewolf that he's rather broken, to be honest."

"And you can't simply have Draco shagging you into knowing all these things? I assume he saw your horror and fear when he informed you of what is required of female Death Eaters?" Snape asked.

"He did. And he will be assisting me. But Draco is just a boy. A werewolf, in fact, who might hurt me by accident, even if he does know of my limited experience. He also won't be very clinical about the entire matter and I feel I need clinical. There's also the issue of how possessive werewolves are. I don't much fancy the idea of having him grow so possessive that he gets himself or both of us killed when he tries to rip someone's throat out if they touch me. While I would appreciate the sentiment, I don't want to die," Hermione admitted.

"That bleeding heart will get you in trouble," Snape warned her, "It belongs to Hermione. Lock it away. You don't care about anyone, Mina. Not anyone. Not even me."

"I can't do that. I care about you. I care about him, despite our foul history. I won't care about anyone else. But the two of you are victims in all this," Hermione argued with him.

"Do not delude yourself, Mina," Severus warned her, "There was a time when I was as vile and reprehensible as people like Rabastan and the others. A time when I was without remorse and drunk on power. There was a time when Draco's prejudices led him to join the Dark Lord. He was pushed, as we all were, but this was a choice. Draco is a victim of lycanthropy and Lucius's failures. But make no mistake, he'd have been a Death Eater regardless of the way things turned out."

"Do you believe you are not worth saving, Snape?" she asked quietly, looking at him carefully, "Do you believe your godson is not worth it?"

"I believe we have all made our choices and must pay for our crimes," Snape replied, "If you make these choices, you will pay for them. Do you understand that? If you seek to seduce me into teaching you the art of sexuality, you will forever be the girl who fucked her teacher. You will forever live with the shame of knowing I've fucked every part of you."

"Better than the shame of all of them doing so without me being prepared," Hermione nodded towards the house.

"You will live with that too," he warned, "For the rest of your life, you will live with the knowledge that you betrayed Ron Weasley and fucked more Death Eaters than you can count."

"For the rest of my life I'll be one of those Death Eaters," Hermione reminded him.

"You'll wear the brand," he shook his head, "You'll commit some of the acts. You will know inside yourself all that you've done. But you will always be an Order member first."

"I just need your help, Professor," Hermione gritted her teeth, "I will reconcile all I must do and all that will be done to me later. Right now I need a way to avoid being brutalised until I bleed. I need a way to keep people like Bellatrix from tormenting me over being fucked in the arse for the first time – probably by Greyback – in front of them all and crying like a scared little girl because it hurts."

Snape looked at her for a long time in silence and Hermione stared back, searching his face for some clue of his thoughts. He was not at all handsome, Hermione knew, but there was something about him that was actually rather appealing. Even at Hogwarts, for all that she disagreed with his teaching methods at times, she'd appreciated his harshness. It suited her. She needed a hard task master. She needed someone who would point out where she needed improvement rather than awarding her for her over-achieving nature.

"It _will_ hurt, Hermione," he warned her in a low voice, "Even those most used to anal sex experience some pain. Especially in a setting like a revel where foreplay is limited."

"Yes, but if I know what to expect and am used to it, I won't be as terrified and therefore won't be as tense. Which will lessen the pain. I'm not a fool, sir, I've read plenty on the topic of sex. I know the ins and out. I know the theory. I just need assistance with the practical experience," she shrugged, "And I don't trust anyone else to be clinical enough to instruct me without making me feel like a fool."

"Have you forgotten my teaching methods so quickly?" he asked, raising his eyebrows "I excel at making my students feel foolish."

"You do," Hermione agreed, "With most students. You never made me feel foolish. Even at your most scathing, I didn't feel foolish with you instructing me. I simply knew I had to do better. I don't imagine you're going to laugh at me for twitching like a frightened rabbit. In fact I imagine you'll snap some instruction about proper leg placement and get on with it."

She wondered if she imagined the glimmer of dark amusement in his eyes.

"This is a bad idea," he warned her, "You're my student. The Death Eaters believe you're my daughter."

"Do you imagine either us is going to go blabbing?" Hermione asked, impersonating him as best she knew how, including the arch expression and the silky voice.

"Have you ever studied theatre?" Snape asked her, completely changing the subject and Hermione frowned in confusion.

"No… why? Do you mean acting?" Hermione asked, baffled.

"You have a knack for impersonation," he informed her.

"If you're referring to yourself or even Malfoy, that's more to do with practice than with ability, sir," Hermione blushed, "Harry, Ron, Ginny and I used to be rather rude when amusing ourselves."

"Is this supposed to incentivise me into accepting your request?" he asked narrowing his eyes in annoyance.

"Just being honest," she replied evenly, "I imagine keeping things from you will be impossible when you're teaching me Occlumency anyway. Better to tell you now than surprise you later."

"Delightful," he muttered, looking annoyed.

"Will you teach me or not, Severus?" she asked seriously.

"And if I say no?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. Hermione caught the glitter in his eyes that suggested he was simply enjoying making her uncomfortable now.

"I'll beg," Hermione admitted "On my knees."

"If I say yes you'll be on your knees regardless," he pointed out and Hermione knew he was going to help her. He wouldn't taunt her if he weren't.

"Thank you," she whispered, feeling a lump in her throat.

Hermione wondered what had come over her that she was thanking her Potions Professor for agreeing to shag her. The world had clearly gone completely topsy-turvy.


	7. Chapter 7: Instruction

**A/N : Yay! I'm so pleased you didn't abandon me, though I'm sad to see some of my readers go. Those of you who've stuck around to read on are just that much sweeter. Strap in for another MONSTER of a chapter too. This one is 13k+ words long just by itself. I thought about splitting it, but I couldn't really find somewhere to do so organically. I do hope you like it, and that you'll still want to read one after you've explored this debauchery. As always, please review/PM me if you spot any typos that need attention or if you have any concerns you need me to clear up. **

**Much love! xx-Kitten.**

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 **Warnings: This chapter contains _Scenes of a Sexual Nature_ , and _A LOT of Triggers_. It's also  not suitable for Work/Public reading, just FYI, unless it's unlikely that anyone might glance at your screen and see what you're reading. You're going to blush, trust me. I blushed writing it. If you plan to read on with the rest of the story, however, this chapter is not to be skipped as it lays many a foundation for later plot arcs.**

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 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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 **Chapter 7: Instruction**

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 _... "My past has tasted bitter for years now, so I wield an iron fist,_

 _Grace is just weakness, or so I've been told,_

 _I've been cold, I've been merciless._

 _But the blood on my hands scares me to death,_

 _Maybe I'm waking up"..._

\- **I'll Be Good (Jaymes Young)**

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"My Lord, do you still mean to give Mina the mark tonight?" Snape asked in a silky voice when they both returned to the Manor and discovered the Dark Lord in his throne room, idly petting the terribly distended form of Nagini. The snake had clearly gorged on the dead Death Eater and was now digesting him. It was disgusting to behold. She was too heavy to slither over the throne so she laid mostly at Voldemort's feet, her head slithered to his lap where he stroked her scales distractedly.

"I don't think so," the Dark Lord murmured, "Perhaps tomorrow. I am tired this evening, Severus."

Hermione blinked at the rather human-seeming show the evil wizard was exhibiting.

"We would not need to hold full court, my Lord," Snape suggested.

"True," Voldemort mused, "But there is no fun in that. Rabastan has yet to return with a victim. And the binding magic is draining. Tomorrow. I will summon everyone tomorrow evening. Be prepared for my call."

"Just the regular ceremony, my Lord?" Severus asked quietly while Hermione looked on silently.

"I'm in no mood for celebration, Severus," the dark wizard sighed heavily, "I am planning a revel for the takeover of the Ministry next month. Have you explained what is expected of my female Death Eaters to your daughter, Severus?"

"I have, my Lord," Snape replied evenly.

"Does the notion bother you, old friend?" Voldemort managed a smirk, glancing away from his pet to look at them.

"It is expected, my Lord," Snape said, "She will do her duty."

"You have pleased me of late, Severus. First Albus Dumbledore and now Potter's mudblood. And you offer up your daughter to my service unreservedly," he mused, "You will be rewarded."

"My Lord?" Snape asked carefully, his eyes sliding to Hermione for a moment.

"Unless Mina wishes otherwise, she may choose the minimum number of matches during next month's revel. I understand there are many among my followers who would delight in inflicting their petty grievances with you upon your daughter. You have my permission to punish any who try without her acquiescence."

"Thank you, my Lord." Snape said, his eyes widening.

"Leave me now," he waved them away, "You will be summoned tomorrow."

"Thank you my Lord," Snape said, "Good night, my Lord."

Voldemort made no reply, his attention returning to Nagini. Snape took Hermione's arm and led her away. Movement caught her eye as they took a winding corridor towards the exit. Blonde hair glinted in the firelight and Hermione stopped to meet Malfoy as he came out of one of the side rooms off the hall. She glanced at Snape for a moment, seeing his unfathomable expression before looking back at Draco.

"No ceremony this evening?" Draco asked without preamble.

"Tomorrow at dusk," Snape answered for her, "You would do well to rest, Draco. Take this before you sleep tonight."

Snape handed him a phial of potion. The colour made Hermione think it was a Dreamless Sleep Potion.

"No revel tomorrow?" Draco asked, his eyes dancing between Hermione and his godfather as he accepted the potion.

"Not until next month," Snape replied, "I understand you have allied yourself with Mina?"

Draco nodded carefully, his eyes darting to Hermione for a moment before going back to Snape.

"She will not be fit tomorrow for anything – as you know the ceremony will render her unconscious," Snape told him and Draco nodded again, clearly familiar with the process, "However, it comes to my attention that someone must ensure she does not make a fool of herself at the revel. She is expected to participate, though only with those she chooses."

Hermione turned to stare at him slowly, her eyes widening in mute horror.

"Is this you arranging play-dates for me?" she asked, horrified, "Is that what you're doing right now?"

Snape eyed her in return.

"I assumed, based on what I witnessed outside that the two of you would be agreeable to furthering your education," he replied mildly.

Draco snorted when Hermione's mouth fell open in shock.

"Probably not the best way to arrange such things, Severus," Draco grinned, clapping him on the shoulder, "I get the feeling she didn't want her father nosing about in her sex life."

"I think I'm going to go and wait outside," Hermione sniffed, turning her nose up at both of them. She was mortified by the idea of Snape setting up what was basically an appointment for sex with Draco on her behalf.

Before she could take a step in the direction, Draco was in her personal space, his hands lightly gripping her shoulders. She narrowed her eyes at him dangerously when she caught the smug amusement on his face. Matters were not at all helped when he nuzzled under her chin, his tongue lapping at the little love-bite he'd left on her neck.

"Is this really the place?" she asked mildly, though she didn't put up a fight.

"You need to get used to the idea of discussing and performing such acts in public," Snape informed her, eyeing her disaffectedly while Draco manhandled her.

"What kind of father are you?" Hermione hissed, her hands pushing at Draco when she felt his licking grow more insistent, his teeth coming into play. Before he could leave another wound or break the scab and exacerbate the current one, Hermione pushed him away.

"He's right, Mina," Draco informed her, "You're going to be fucked in front of everyone. By me and whoever else. Might as well get used to it. It's a part of being a Death Eater."

"Oh, well in that case just take me here in the corridor then," she snapped, losing her temper with the idea. It still made her squeamish and she didn't at all like the notion of anyone seeing her business. She also needed to play up the concept of Snape being her father, one whom she was embarrassed to be seen canoodling by.

"Don't tempt us, love," a voice came from behind her and Hermione nearly leapt out of her skin, spinning fast and drawing her wand. Rabastan Lestrange smirked at her even as he found himself at wand-point while she glared at him.

"Well, aren't you fun to surprise?" he went on huskily, grinning mischievously now and Hermione decided she needed to get out of there. She was dangerously close to the end of her rope and not at all ready for the continued acting and careful plotting required of being in their presence.

"Try it again and next time you might find yourself rather surprised," she hissed in response.

"And feisty too," Rabastan practically purred, looking like he approved. The twisted bastard clearly enjoyed being threatened.

"I'm going home," she announced, lowering her wand from Rabastan's throat and glancing at Snape to see him watching her with an unfathomable expression.

"Want company?" Rabastan offered lecherously and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"When I do, I'll let you know," she answered him, rather enjoying the way his green eyes widened slightly before a predatory grin crossed his face. With that said, Hermione stepped around him, not at all caring that the wizard trailed a hand over her stomach as she passed him.

"Gentleman," Snape said, clearly dismissing them as he followed her.

Behind her, Hermione heard them bid Snape goodnight. She also heard it when Rabastan said, "I can't wait to fuck her."

"You and me both," Draco replied in that drawl of his and Hermione realised she had to play her part. Despite her deteriorating mood she stopped at the end of the hallway and glanced over her shoulder. They were both watching her walk away, appreciation in their eyes. Hermione realised that for all that they could both practice pureblood pomp with the best of them and treat her like a lady when required, they were both also animals and, more importantly – men.

She offered them both a smirk, catching the way Snape watched her as well. She didn't bid them good night or goodbye. She just smirked wickedly at the pair of wizards before she continued on out of the Manor until she and Snape were outside. He didn't say anything until they were on the drive and heading for the gates.

"You're playing with fire," he warned her seriously.

"You're the one organising sex appointments with Malfoy on my behalf," Hermione retorted, "And of course I'm playing with fire, I'm about to be made a Death Eater and expected to fuck Voldemort's entire army. All without giving away my identity or caving on my cover and ruining everything."

"Just be careful," he warned her, offering his arm to her so they could apparate. He twitched minutely when she took his hand again rather than clinging to his arm, "I saw Draco trying to bite you again. He'll need to get a handle on that. It could spell trouble. And Rabastan is a different kind of dangerous."

Hermione closed her eyes as they apparated.

"You think he'll hurt me?" Hermione asked.

"Worse," Snape admitted, "I think he's already infatuated with you – many of them are – though particularly those two after you displayed pureblood manners upon our arrival. Where did you learn that?"

"I'm a muggleborn witch," she rolled her eyes, "Do you really think there is anything about what is considered to be 'proper' wizarding culture that I'm unaware of? I made it my business to know everything about the magical world that I could. You haven't been calling me a know-it-all for nothing."

"Indeed," he agreed and Hermione watched, intrigued as he unfastened his cloak and hung it on a coat stand by the door. He held his hand out to her, waiting for hers too.

She'd never seen him without his billowing robes before. It seemed odd. Without it she noticed that he was very tall and of a slim, wiry build. She expected he was far more powerful that he appeared. She also felt her eyebrows begin to climb when he toed out of his dragon hide boots to reveal green socks. She gaped at them, utterly shocked that he owned something that wasn't black.

She also paid for her distraction when he crooked her under the chin, silently commanding she close her open mouth.

"They're socks, Mina," he rolled his eyes when she looked at him, befuddled.

"Yes, but they're green," Hermione pointed out, "You, the intimidating and foreboding Potions Professor, have been stalking around in green socks this whole time?"

"Stalking?" he asked, quirking one eyebrow.

"Like a hungry panther," she nodded, "Maybe this is all some crazy dream. Maybe I went to sleep on the run and I've been dreaming this whole time."

"It takes the sight of me in socks to make you question your sanity?" he scoffed, "Not the idea of you taking tea in Malfoy Manor or the idea of you snogging Draco? Not the idea of the Dark Lord instructing Bella and Rodolphus to have a baby? Not Rabastan implying his intentions to wed you? Just me in my socks?"

"Well it's not every day one is confronted with as surprising a notion as you owning a garment of clothing that isn't black," she replied, grinning just a little.

"I have blue ones too," he informed her without even a hint of sarcasm and Hermione giggled just the tiniest bit, "Now, take your shoes off and go and shower. Find me when you're done."

Hermione made for the stairs intent on finding some of her clothing.

"Bathroom is that way," he pointed, unbuttoning more of the buttons on his robes.

"But I need…" she began before meeting his gaze.

"No you don't. You have a month to learn everything there is to know about sex, Miss Granger. Find me when you've showered," he told her, spinning her by her shoulders and giving her a shove towards the shower. Hermione gulped at the very idea.

She shuffled into the bathroom. She stopped to summon her toiletry bag from upstairs, waving her wand and waiting for it to come whizzing down the stairs and into the room, along with a towel for herself. When everything was inside, Hermione closed the door behind her and stripped out of her robes. She paused for a moment in front of the small bathroom mirror to take in her new and unfamiliar appearance.

Her hair was slightly tousled, thanks to Malfoy. Her face was one she didn't want to look at and yet couldn't take her eyes off. She was far prettier now than she had been before. It was as though every flaw, every blemish, every possible imperfection had been smoothed away. She now looked a little like a porcelain doll - just like the ones her mother had collected when Hermione was just a girl. Her curls hung in long, smooth ringlets down her back, framing her face nicely. The colour seemed rich and glossy, not at all like the dull and frizzy mess she'd had in the past.

Her face was sharp, yet feminine, her cheekbones high, her chin pointed. Her eyes seemed the closest thing to the same. She'd seen them look this way only when she was at her happiest. They glittered with intelligence and a hint of cunning. The rich brown shade of them was familiar amid an unfamiliar face. When she looked down to the rest of her body, she noticed it was the same. Imperfections had been smooth away. Where in the past she had noted a few hints of cellulite on the backs of her thighs, now there was nothing but smooth, silky flesh. Her stomach was already flat, but now it seemed a little more toned.

Her breasts seemed the same size as ever, though the nipples seemed rosier. The nest of curls she had been neglecting between her thighs seemed less wiry and much softer when she combed her fingers through them idly. She would need to do something about those. About her legs too. Hermione sighed. Usually she didn't like to bother, but it seemed she would need some kind of regime for such things.

Digging her jar of hair removal potion from her toiletry bag, Hermione lathered it all over her legs. It was designed to remove all traces of hair from everywhere it touched for three months. It was expensive too, but worth it. She hated shaving. She tackled her underarms next, lathering the potion there as well before much more carefully assessing her nether region.

Ron has always insisted that it seemed strange and rather uncomfortable to him for a girl to be completely bare down there. Hermione nibbled her lips carefully. Maybe some kind of pattern. Girls did that, didn't they? She thought about it carefully, personally she wasn't much of a fan of hair down there. Sure it was warmer in winter and it made for better cover from being ogled, but she was going to be on display. The last thing she wanted was jokes about her bushy lower-locks

Very carefully, Hermione used the small pair of scissors she carried to trim the curls shorter so she could better style the section. She decided on a small love heart, roughly the size of two of her thumb nails, right at the top of her slit. Carefully she used her eyeliner pencil to stencil the shape and make sure it would be right before smearing the potion over the rest of the hair, leaving only the heart behind. She sighed over the idea of needing to go fully bare everywhere else. Not that she didn't like being bare, it was just a nightmare.

Very carefully she spread the potion along her nether lips and then further back, making sure to completely cover her back entrance and the surrounding flesh. She felt very silly standing in Snape's bathroom with hair removing potion in her crack, but there was little for it. She was going to be shagging the bloke – what did private awkwardness in his bathroom matter?

While she waited for the potion to take effect, Hermione set to work on better styling her eyebrows, tidying up the fuzzy little caterpillars with a smear of potion. And then she waited. The allotted time for full removal was ten minutes. Once it was up, Hermione waddled carefully into the shower, being sure not to get the potion anywhere it shouldn't be.

She felt sort of bad when the potion all washed off, taking the hair with it and almost clogging the drain thanks to the length of time it had been since she'd done so. The potion had the same effect as waxing, without the pain and with longer lasting effects. She loved magic for that. Once it was all removed, Hermione thoroughly washed her hair and body. She bit her lip on the idea of making sure everything – and she meant _everything_ – was one hundred percent spotless. Her wand was required for that, but Hermione wanted to make sure things were clean and not going to be messy.

She didn't want to embarrass herself.

Thorough cleansing charms were put to use, Hermione wincing slightly and thankful she was alone when she had to insert the tip of her want into both nether passages. It didn't hurt, though the back passage puckered and tightened at the attention. She would need to work on that. She'd read about how best to achieve anal penetration. She knew it involved relaxing, being comfortable and well lubricated. She just didn't know how she was supposed to achieve that.

She was a conservative sort of girl. She might've read about such things but she'd never really intended to try them. Now she would have no choice. She would be engaging in acts she'd never thought she would fantasise about, let alone attempt. The idea of doing so with people she didn't even trust made her nervous.

She would just have to learn, Hermione decided. Mina Graziana was a learned type of girl, one who could and would make use of any situation to her advantage. Which meant she needed to get out of the shower, find Snape and begin her training. She didn't much care about needing to please the men she would be shagging. She doubted much would be required from her when she had all three holes stuffed full. In fact she suspected she would just need to hold still and let them all do what they liked.

Which she did not at all like. Hermione didn't like not being in charge. That might be the hardest part. She would just have to hold still and take it and she didn't know how she would do that. Drying herself quickly, Hermione used a drying charm for her hair, not wanting to bother with waiting for it to dry naturally. When she was done, Hermione didn't bother with packing her things back up. She was effectively living here now and Snape would just have to deal with it. She did make sure to stack them neatly and out of the way, for the most part – knowing how the Potions Master felt about unnecessary clutter.

Not wanting to overwhelm, she left only a toothbrush, her shampoo, conditioner, soap and loofa on display. Everything else could be kept in her bedroom. She wrapped her bath-towel around herself, being sure to put her soiled robes in the hamper she spotted in the corner before she took the rest of her things and left the bathroom. She climbed the stairs towards her bedroom quickly, noticing most of Snape's house was dark and silent. She didn't know where he was but she supposed it made sense to put her things away first.

Slipping into her room, Hermione placed her bag on the chest of drawers. And then she squeaked in terror when she spotted the Potions Master sitting on the bed, watching her move around. She clutched the towel a little tighter, her wand in her other hand as she stared at him wide eyed. He wore only black silk boxers. Nothing else. No socks, no trousers, no shirt. Just boxers.

His arms were folded over his pale and scarred chest and he was reclined against the wall, propped up against it with his legs straight and crossed at the ankle.

"Drop the towel," he instructed in that silky voice he'd been using all day. Hermione narrowed her eyes a little, wondering how he managed to sound so much like he did in a classroom and yet so persuasive and sultry at the same time.

"I didn't see you there," Hermione offered lamely, wondering why she was stating the obvious, other than nerves, obviously.

"Drop the towel, Mina," he repeated, not acknowledging her lame statement.

"I…" Hermione began, chewing her lip nervously. She put her wand on the drawers next to her bag before turning back to him. He didn't say anything else. He simply sat there, waiting for her to do as she was told. Hermione wondered how the usually furious and impatient Potions Master could seem as much at ease in his boxers as he did in his intimidating robes.

"I can't," she admitted, blushing crimson.

"You can. Let go of it. Drop it as though you're alone," Snape insisted, still not moving though his voice did take on an even more persuasive tone. One that made her remaining hair stand on end and caused a little shiver to race down her spine. One he spotted, if his small smirk was any indication.

Closing her eyes, Hermione hesitantly did as she was told. She told herself to pretend he wasn't sitting there, looking at her. The feel of it slipping down her body had her almost grabbing for the ends, desperate to hide herself. She wasn't all that concerned about her physical appearance. The potion he'd given her had taken away most everything that she would want to hide. It was simply the mental anguish she was dealing with.

"Open your eyes, Mina," he instructed, "Look at me."

His voice had taken on a deceptively soothing tone and Hermione's eyes snapped open out of habit. She knew that tone too well from years spent as his student. That tone meant he was about to strike out about something. Only he didn't do anything else. He simply stared at her. Hermione felt all the more self-conscious as he scrutinized her.

"You're staring," she said finally in a small voice when she couldn't take it anymore.

"I am," he agreed, "Others will as well."

"Why?" she asked, covering herself with her hands.

"Uncover, Mina," he warned, "You are not to show any signs of weakness or insecurity. It will be used against you. Come here."

Hermione bit her lip before doing as he asked, uncovering herself once more and stalking across the room. She stopped at the end of the bed, staring at him and waiting for more instruction.

"Now walk back," he commanded, "Walk around the room. Pretend you're pacing over a problem and aren't naked."

"How?" Hermione asked, baffled and feeling entirely self-conscious.

"Tell me about the horcruxes," he insisted, never moving but to speak and breathe. His eyes followed her as she turned and walked away from him.

"Two have been destroyed," she said, doing as he instructed and pacing the room, "Harry stabbed Tom Riddle's diary – the first Horcrux, when we were in second year. The second was destroyed by Dumbledore. I assume it was cursed, hence his deteriorating health before you killed him?"

She glanced at him. He nodded sharply.

"We also believe the third is Salazar Slytherin's locket. Harry and Professor Dumbledore retrieved it the night Dumbledore died, but it was a fake. It was replaced sometime earlier with a decoy and stolen by Regulus Black. We searched the house, where Kreacher had it, knowing it had been accidentally thrown out in the cleaning purge during the summer before fifth year, but weren't able to locate it. We've since learned that Mundungus was trying to pawn it off and was interrupted by Umbridge, who confiscated his wares. Before we were captured this morning we'd been planning on breaking into the Ministry to steal it back."

"Do you know how to destroy them?" Snape asked.

"Dumbledore left me a book about how they are made and how they can be destroyed. Only Basilisk venom and Fiendfyre will work. Neither of which we have easy access too."

"I can teach you to create and control Fiendfyre," Snape offered and Hermione paused to look at him.

"Really?" she asked, before realising suddenly that she'd completely forgotten that she was naked as she paced. She glanced down at herself before looking back up at him to see him smirking.

"Really. Still self-conscious?" he asked.

"Yes," she admitted, "But not as much. Is this why you look foreboding, no matter the situation? You've accepted everything about how you look whilst naked and are therefore unapologetic about it with everyone else, even when clothed?"

"Essentially. You can't be nervous about being naked before men and women who will fuck you," he insisted, "It will only inspire violence, ridicule or greater lust from them. If they believe you to be the blushing maid that you currently are, they will chew you up and spit you out whole. In this instance you need to emulate Bellatrix – which is to say, you must strut around, parading yourself as though you are the most important thing in the world and no one else's opinion is of any consequence to you."

"You're telling me to be more self-entitled and egotistical?" Hermione asked, astonished.

"Only whilst naked. You manage it just fine when clothed," he replied, "Do you feel comfortable?"

"Of course not. I'm stark naked in from of my Potions Professor," she replied.

"So?" he shrugged, "I'm almost as naked in front of a student. Am I cringing?"

She shook her head

"Do I seem uncomfortable to you?" he went on.

Again, Hermione shook her head.

"Emulate me," he instructed, "Sit here."

He nodded to the spot on the bed beside him. Hermione made to walk around the side to sit next to him but he shook his head.

"Crawl, Mina," he said in that silky voice again.

"You want me to crawl across the bed to you?" she asked, blushing crimson again.

"You will do much more than that, both with me in private and before the rest of the Death Eaters next month. If you cannot do it for me, they will eat you alive," he told her.

Hermione was flushed crimson and trying not to die of shame when she got on her hands and knees and crawled up the bed towards Snape. He made no move to touch her. He simply watched her do it.

"Do you have any other ideas of what the Horcruxes are and how many there are?" Snape asked when she was seated beside him, her legs stretched out, her ankles crossed and her arms folded over her chest.

"We think they might be objects that are important or significant to the Dark Lord. Nagini, for sure. We also believe that Hufflepuff's cup and Ravenclaw's Diadem are the others. We suspect seven in total including the piece of his soul currently inhabiting his body," Hermione told him.

He glanced at her sideways.

"There is one more," he murmured and Hermione frowned, "Can you guess what it is?"

Hermione bit her lip. Yes, she could guess. She'd been suspecting for some time now that there was another horcrux. An accidentally made one.

"Harry?" she whispered, feeling sick to her stomach to voice her suspicions.

"The last Horcrux," Snape nodded, "Dumbledore knew. He informed me of it all. There will come a time – when all the other horcuxes are destroyed – that Harry will have to go before the Dark Lord to die. Dumbledore believed that if he does so willingly, surrendering himself for the sake of others, the killing curse will kill off the soul piece inside Potter. Whether Potter will survive is another matter. One we could not agree on before his death."

"Why haven't you told Harry any of this?" Hermione wanted to know.

Snape merely looked at her and Hermione knew the answer. Harry wouldn't believe Snape even if he did tell him, and if he did believe, he would not go willingly and solely for the purpose of dying for the greater good. He would go with the expectation that it was not himself being sacrificed, but Voldemort. Which Hermione suspected would kill off Harry and not the Horcrux.

She wondered idly about how well she was able to understand each of Snape's looks. He didn't have to explain his meaning behind each one. She began to suspect she had spent too long whilst being a know-it-all student analysing his behaviour for some sign of praise. One that had never come, funnily enough, until today.

"Do you think it's possible to destroy all the Horcruxes before the Dark Lord forces another battle?" Hermione asked him quietly, uncrossing and recrossing her ankles until her thigh was pressed against the length of his on the bed.

"Not entirely. Not without you, anyway," Snape admitted with a shrug, "Nagini will be the most difficult to destroy. The Dark Lord rarely leaves her unprotected."

Hermione nodded slowly, thinking hard about the issue. She would need to help Harry and Ron still, that much was clear. She wondered if the solution laid in trying to assist them by helping locate and destroy horcruxes or if it laid in the art of distraction. If she could effectively distract the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters from what Harry was doing. Creating havoc in the Ministry.

"I'm going to need your help with something else," Hermione murmured quietly, a plan beginning to unfold inside her mind.

"I daresay you're not going to return the favour for all this assistance I'm providing you?" he asked sardonically.

"Do you require my help with something?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows at him, startled by his response, "I am at your disposal if you believe that I can actually be of use to you, Severus."

She caught the minute shudder that rolled through him at the sound of his first name on her lips.

"What else do you require of me?" he asked rather than answering her.

"I want to wreak havoc with the Ministry take-over and I want it to be blamed on others," Hermione informed him, "I'm not suggesting going in there, curses blazing. But I am suggesting the misplacement of prisoners on Macnair's watch. The bumbling of a smooth transition under Umbridge's overseeing."

"Subterfuge," he smirked sideways at her.

"Indeed," Hermione grinned.

"That will have to happen rather quickly," he informed her, "Once you, Draco and I return to Hogwarts in September we will only be allowed to leave when we are expressly summoned."

"Hence the lie of you being my father and me still being of school-age."

"You _are_ still of school age," he reminded her, "You have yet to complete your seventh year."

"I didn't honestly expect to. How can I sit in the castle and do nothing while Harry and Ron are out hunting down horcruxes and foiling the Dark Lord plans?" Hermione asked him, frowning at the idea.

"Hermione Granger couldn't," Snape shrugged, "Mina Graziana has no choice. Mina will also have the ability to protect the other students from the Death Eaters I will be forced to bring with me."

"You're bringing other Death Eaters into the school?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"The Dark Lord means to install the Carrows," Snape nodded, "Alecto and Amycus. Amycus will be in charge of the new Dark Arts class, in lieu of the Defence classes."

"The Dark Lord doesn't want students knowing how to defend themselves," Hermione nodded.

"Alecto will be taking over what used to be Muggle Studies. Which will now focus on educating the students about wizarding culture."

"All the bowing, simpering and rot?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

"The Dark Lord likes to operate under the delusion that we are all still civilised magical beings, hence his use of words like 'friend' and his practice of cordialities," Snape curled his lip.

"Doesn't that just sound delightful?" Hermione sighed, tipping her head back against the headboard and staring at the ceiling. She noticed idly that the paint was peeling just a bit.

"Comfortable?" Snape asked in that deceptively silky voice and Hermione startled slightly to realise that she was comfortable.

"I am, actually," she smirked at him, "Who'd have known this was possible? If someone had told me this morning how this day was going to turn out, I think I'd have escorted them to St. Mungo's."

"You realise you won't have anything to distract you from being self-conscious at a revel?" he asked seriously, "No one is going to offer stimulating conversation."

"How many revels have you had to participate in?" Hermione asked him quietly, raising her eyebrows as she wondered suddenly about the type of life he'd lived. She'd never really given it much thought before. She knew, of course, that he was a Death Eater and had joined them in his youth, during the first uprising. She'd just never really considered the type of depravity her surly and snarky Potions teacher engaged in outside of the classrooms he governed.

"I've lost count," he admitted quietly, "Too many."

Hermione nodded, biting her lip. As the silence grew, some of her tension returned, but Hermione did her best to push it away. There was little point being shy. She knew that he'd already assessed her carefully, though he'd kept his mouth shut on his opinions, for which she was grateful. Hermione didn't think she'd cope well to have him hissing insults at her about her appearance. Not that there was much left to comment on. Aesthetically speaking she no longer possessed any actual flaws.

"Come here, Mina," he commanded quietly and Hermione noted the way he slowly unfurled his arms, clearly anticipating having her come even closer. She realised immediately that he meant to have her straddle him and the very idea made her stomach flip with nervous energy. Her heart - which had slowed during their discussion - began to race once more. She glanced furtively into his lap before biting the bullet and realising she had no choice. She was going to have to rely on her Gryffindor courage and simply fake it until she felt comfortable. Furling her legs up under herself, Hermione climbed onto her knees, turning to face him. She threw one leg over his lap carefully, making sure not to injure him.

She had to put her hands on his bare shoulders to steady herself when she nearly lost her balance and she felt the way he jolted slightly in surprise as though he hadn't been expecting her to be the one to reach out first to touch him. Hermione shivered when his hands came up to lightly rest against the dip of her waist, guiding her down until she was seated, straddling his lap like a common trollop. She felt slightly surprised when she realised something wasn't right. Something felt off and she raised her eyebrows in surprise when she realised it was the fact that she couldn't feel any erection beneath herself.

"You're entirely too clinical," Hermione accused him softly, shifting her arse slightly. It was almost subconscious. Part of her simply reacted indignantly to the idea that she could be parading around naked in front of the surly man and have him being entirely unaffected by the sight of her body.

"You would do well to learn proper and unrelenting self-control, Mina," Snape informed her when she lifted slightly on his lap, trying to arrange herself more comfortably. She still had her hands on the tops of his bony shoulders for balance and Hermione squeaked in surprise as she was shuffling when she suddenly felt the warm and wet swipe of his tongue over her left nipple.

"I said control yourself," he repeated, "By the time this training of yours is through, I expect to be able to do absolutely anything to you without having you react unless you wish to. Is that clear?"

"Isn't the point of sex to surrender control to someone else?" Hermione wanted to know, frowning at him but not pulling away when he used his grip on her hips to lift her again so he could lick her other nipple, "Isn't the idea to allow someone else to administer pleasure in lieu of one's control over how they react to it?"

"It is. But if you can't control your own pleasure, how can you expect to offer it to anyone else?" Snape wanted to know, tipping his head slightly to peer at her, "What right do you have over controlling someone else's pleasure if you can't control your own?"

"Is this your way of saying you're going to begin with lessons in masturbation?" Hermione asked, blushing crimson again, "Because that will be awkward."

"Don't allow your mind to react to it as being awkward," he instructed, "Do not allow the thought to enter your mind. You could be sitting there thinking about how off-putting you find my appearance. But if you do, this will be much more difficult."

"In other words you're saying to control the situation by analysing the situation as though I was merely an impartial spectator?" she asked, "Doesn't that make me unfeeling?"

"Do you think me unfeeling?" he asked curiously then, and Hermione caught a glimmer in his dark eyes.

"Often," she nodded, deciding that with Snape she would be entirely honest. He was going to get into her head, after all. Why bother trying to hide things? He snorted at her blunt response.

"Though the more I think about it, the less it seems like you're unfeeling," Hermione mused, "You're just very guarded. You seem aloof and unfeeling about everything. Like a calm pool of water. The surface is flat and still, but no one knows what's going on underneath. How does one apply that to sex?"

"The same way as everything else. Guard you reactions and responses," Snape informed her.

"Is that why you're able to have a naked girl in your lap without having an erection?" Hermione asked him bluntly, peering into his face. For all her embarrassment of self-consciousness over the issues, she was also exceedingly curious. She hadn't believe it possible to conceal the way one's body responded to others this way.

Snape smirked at her.

"It's that or you simply don't find me, or the naked female form attractive… You're not gay, are you?" Hermione asked him, "Because if so, you don't have to help me…. It will just be embarrassing for both of us."

Snape still didn't speak, just continued to smirk at her and Hermione watched him curiously until she felt the surge of something hot and hard beneath her.

"You can make it do that on command?" she asked, feeling slightly awed.

"Discipline," he nodded, "You can do it too, with practice. Are you comfortable?"

"On your lap?" she clarified, "Or in general, you know given that we're teacher and student, masquerading as father and daughter, and yet currently naked together in a mildly sexual context?"

"I should have known you'd have the ability to be clinical when it was required," he deadpanned when he heard her logical way of questioning.

"I blame it on logic," Hermione grinned, "So what now?"

"What do you want to do now?" he asked rather than answering her.

"Learn," Hermione admitted, "Whatever you want to teach me. I don't have much time to learn everything you need to teach me… and I don't just mean the bedroom stuff."

"Indeed," he agreed. Hermione blinked when he lifted a phial from somewhere. It was filled with pink potion that Hermione recognised instantly from the shade. Lust potion. "Do you want this?"

"Do I need it?" Hermione wanted to know, raising her eyebrows.

"That's up to you. I've found, before mastering self-control, that attraction and lustfulness is conducive to sex. Do you need it?" he turned the question back on her and Hermione realised suddenly that he was asking her if she needed the potion to feel attracted to him in order to better fuck him.

She pondered the question seriously. She was nervous. She'd only slept with Ron once in the past. In fact, it had been a bit sloppy and rushed, if she was honest. They'd simply stripped each other, awkwardly aligned themselves together and rather hurriedly finished. She wouldn't say she found Snape attractive. He was old enough to actually be her father, and he was her teacher. The lines of that had already been blurred, but there could be no denying that it was awkward, though she was trying to overcome it.

There was also the fact that he wasn't at all handsome. He knew. She knew. The whole world who'd ever seen him knew. His nose was hooked, his hair was greasy and his skin was a pallid shade that made him look ill. Physically he wasn't appealing, and yet Hermione found herself… intrigued. She knew she could react to his voice alone. She had before. Not in a sexual sense, per se, but she had certainly reacted to the silky smooth tones he could produce.

"Take into your calculation that I do not kiss on the mouth," Snape warned her softly. Hermione caught the tiniest hint of a smirk on his face when she quivered at the sound of his voice.

"The point of this is to learn," Hermione murmured quietly, "Not mindlessly act. I don't need that."

He raised his eyebrows at her answer before shrugging and setting the phial on the table by the bed. As he reached to put it there, the Dark Mark marring his forearm was on display and Hermione found herself staring at it. The knowledge that from tomorrow, she would bear one on her own left forearm terrified her. She hated the way it looked and she despised what it represented.

Snape paused when she reached out and took his arm into her hands, cradling the top of his forearm in one hand. The other trailed over the raised black tattoo on the inside of his arm. It was horrible to behold but Hermione studied it closely, lifting his arm closer so she could examine it.

"If you look at everything I teach you the same way you're studying my Dark mark, this will work out well," he informed her in that silky tone. Hermione suspected it was the one he used when he meant to be encouraging without seeming presuming or overbearing. He'd used it with the Dark Lord too.

"Does the application hurt?" Hermione wanted to know, "I know I'll have to commit murder, and that I'll be subjected to the Cruciatus curse, but does the actual application of the mark into the flesh hurt? Any more than a regular tattoo?"

"It will most likely be the most excruciating thing you ever endure," Snape replied quietly, allowing her to smooth her fingers over the flesh of his Dark mark carefully. Hermione couldn't understand how he'd seemed so unsettled about holding her hand on the way to Malfoy Manor, and yet could sit in his boxers with her stark naked in his lap without so much as a nervous twitch.

"You said I'll most likely faint?" Hermione recalled what he'd said to Malfoy.

"You will faint. Everyone does. When it is over I will return you here, where you will be safe," he removed his arm from her hold carefully and Hermione was too distracted with worry to pay much mind to the way his fingers caressed her jaw, tilting her head as though he meant to kiss her.

"Mina?" he murmured carefully and Hermione focused her attention on his dark eyes. Even so, she wasn't expecting his next movement as he whispered, "Legilimens."

He penetrated the barriers within her mind with disgusting ease. Hermione hissed at the flood of thoughts and memories that swarmed forth for him to peruse. Flashes of the day's events swam behind her eyes, snippets of her thoughts on display as she entered the hall filled with Death Eaters; the agony in her soul at the sight of Ron dangling limply in his chains. More still; her amusement when she discovered Snape had a dark and twisted sense of humour and got funny about holding her hand; hatred and fear as she duelled with Bellatrix.

He didn't push any thoughts into her mind or make suggestions of the things he wanted to see. He simply tagged along with the swirl of thoughts and memories flitting through her skull at that particular moment. When he withdrew, Hermione sagged against him heavily – feeling drained and weak.

"That wasn't fun," she groaned, her face turned into his neck, her cheek resting on the top of his shoulder as she panted. Her head had begun to ache.

"You'll learn to get used to it," Snape replied and Hermione noted that though he sounded sure of that fact, there was the tiniest hint of a warning that she'd better get used to it and do better in future, "You did well whilst in the presence of the Death Eater court, when you were on guard and prepared for an attack. You will be less successful if you are distracted, as you are now."

"But I trust you," Hermione pointed out, "I know where your loyalties lie and I know that anything you find in my head is either something you already know about - such as my affiliation with Harry and the Order - or things you'll come to know about me anyway."

"Nonetheless, had I been anyone else, you would currently be facing some hard questions," Snape pointed out and Hermione was surprised when she felt him smooth his hands over her hair and down her bare back.

"Not necessarily," Hermione argued in a huffing tone, "All you really got was fear and anger at being in front of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. Mina Graziana has never met any of those people and was immediately attacked and drawn into a duel. Those feelings aren't unexpected."

"And your pity and concern for Weasley?" Snape asked coldly.

"Still explainable," Hermione told him, "I have since made suggestions about killing ex-lovers, but it's not unheard of to experience some concern and compassion for a supposed stranger who is hanging unconscious and in chains, being tortured."

"You will do better next time," Snape warned in her ear and Hermione sighed, nodding wearily. She felt heavy and tired.

"Is there any way to use Legilimency without giving the victim a headache?" she asked, realising what an important tool the magic would be to her.

"Of course, with practice and refinement. However, the first time one's mind is invaded, unless it is done with undetectable subtlety, the victim will suffer. The subconscious recognises a foreign presence and acts to expel it. In most cases first time victims faint when the subconscious can't expel the presence, thus protecting itself by shutting down. You must be careful if you wish to learn Legilimency, because it's very dangerous for a witch or wizard to be invading the unconscious mind of another. You can become trapped inside their head until they wake up, which is less likely with you still in there."

"In other words, be careful, be quick and be so subtle about it that the mind of my victims won't notice the invasion and thus react to it?" Hermione summarised.

"Ideally," Snape replied and Hermione could tell from his tone that it was far easier said than done, "Tell me about your past sexual experience."

Hermione balked at the idea, though she chose not to lift her head from where it rested atop his shoulder. She nuzzled her face a little closer into his neck, breathing deeply and noticing the sharp peppermint and smoke scent of him.

"There's not much to tell," Hermione admitted, her cheeks warming, "About a week before Bill and Fleur's wedding Ron and I shagged. It was over in less time than it takes to explain it."

She felt more than heard Snape snort in amusement at that.

"I take it from that description that you've experimented very little regarding the workings of your body and other sexual acts besides intercourse?"

"Well, I mean..." Hermione trailed off, not sure she could own up to having toyed with masturbation in the past when curiosity got the better of her.

Snape chuckled at her awkwardness.

"My mistake," he purred, "I forgot to whom I am speaking. You've read about this, as you have about seemingly everything else and naturally had to test the theory."

"Only by myself, though," Hermione admitted, "I mean Ron and I kind of, you know, groped around a bit but it was all rather rushed and silly."

"You've only experienced intercourse with a partner the one time?" Snape confirmed, and Hermione nodded her head against him. She found herself trailing the tip of her nose against his neck, noting idly that there was just the faintest scratch of stubble, like sand-paper. She also noticed the way he tilted his head a little as though to encourage her exploration. Beneath her body, now hard and throbbing inside his boxers, Hermione could feel that he was erect. So much so that it was a wonder he hadn't lifted her out of his lap, he was so hard.

"Drink this," he instructed, pulling her back a little bit and offering her another potion. Hermione eyed it through the phial carefully. It was an icy shade of blue like periwinkle.

"Contraception?" Hermione asked, uncorking the potion to sniff it in order to confirm the assertion.

"A strong one," Snape nodded, "Like most of the potions I have given you today, it will be effective for three months."

"Does that mean I won't... you know... menstruate for three months too?"

"This potion doesn't work like a muggle contraceptive, Mina," Snape shook his head and Hermione noticed the way he pressed the phial into her hand before smoothing his hand down her sides as though he liked the feel of her skin, "They work by tricking your body into thinking you are pregnant, thus preventing menstruation and often causing weight gain. This potion does the opposite. It sends your uterus into a suspended animation state - like a hibernation. You will not menstruate or experience any of the other feminine foibles associated with hormonal imbalance and ovulation. As a result you will also need to take this one."

He held up a second phial - this one a happy shade of yellow.

"Hormone supplement?" Hermione asked, also accepting that phial even as she wondered where he kept pulling them from.

"Indeed," Snape nodded and Hermione rolled her eyes at his deadpan tone over her know-it-all ways, "And this one will protect against sexually transmitted diseases and infection. It will also prevent you from being susceptible to other infections - such as lycanthropy."

"You invented a potion that can protect against disease completely, including lycanthropy?" Hermione asked, leaning back in his lap to stare at him, "How? And how is it that you've invented all these potions and yet resisted the urge to make millions by keeping them to yourself rather than patenting them?"

"I invent them for my own purposes, and currently, public knowledge of them would be most inconvenient," Snape shrugged his shoulders.

"You realise, don't you, that when this war is all over you're going to be disgustingly rich?" Hermione asked him, impressed with his ability.

"You imagine that I will survive the war?" Snape asked, raising his eyebrows.

"You will," Hermione nodded, "I'll make sure of it."

"Miss Granger I have no intention or desire to survive this war," Snape warned her sharply, "I seek only to end the reign and the existence of the Dark Lord. That will be enough for me. Potter will vanquish the Dark Lord and that will be that."

"I'm not going to let you die," Hermione replied just as sternly, glaring into his face.

"Do you imagine I want to live on with the number of heinous crimes that will be on my record by the time this war is through, Miss Granger?" he demanded, glaring at her now.

Hermione didn't answer for as long as it took for her to drink the three potions he'd given her. The Contraceptive potion tasted like chilled liquorice and Hermione shuddered at the flavour as it sent an icy feeling racing through her - all of it seeming to settle low down in her stomach. The hormone supplement tasted the way she imagined daffodils would taste if you boiled them into a tea. Not exactly pleasant, but better than she'd imagined. The third potion to guard against infection made her cough and gag horribly. It tasted the way she imagined blood must taste if allowed to cool and then be left in the sun for a week whilst still remaining liquid. Positively disgusting.

"You're calling me Miss Granger again," Hermione warned, "And no, I don't imagine I'll much want to live on after the war given the things I will endure and the things I will participate in either, but I'm going to."

"I will not," Snape assured her, "The notion of doing so sickens me."

"Because of the things you've done?" Hermione asked curiously, surprised by his admission. She'd never taken Professor Severus Snape to be suicidal.

"I am the current Headmaster of Hogwarts with a seventh year student naked in my lap," he replied coldly, "Do you imagine I want that on my conscience when the war is over? I watched two other students under my charge be infected with Lycanthropy, knowing I possess a potion that could have prevented it, but was unable to administer it without displeasing a megalomaniac. I murdered the only person in the world who knew my every dark secret and was my only real friend."

Hermione stared into his angrily flashing black eyes and knew he meant it. That he was disgusted with himself and with all he had done. Hermione didn't blame him.

"Do you imagine that continuing to live on after this stupid fucking war has anything to do with you?" Hermione asked him, catching his flinch at her language and her aggressive tone, "Do you delude yourself into believing you can just take the easy way out? That you get to just give in to the self-loathing inside yourself and give up when your mission is complete?"

"Mina," he warned in a dangerous tone.

"Oh no, Professor," she shook her head, her eyes hard, "This isn't Mina. Right now I'm all Hermione Jean Granger. You don't get to just die. You don't get to give up. I won't fucking let you!"

"You don't get a say," Snape retorted, his eyes narrowing dangerously at the sharp tone in her voice.

"Want to wager on that?" Hermione asked archly, "Because I guarantee that I bloody well do get a say. You're not allowed to die."

"I don't want to survive, Miss Granger. I don't want to try to reconcile all I have done and will do when this is all over. I refuse to rot the rest of my life in a prison cell."

"It's not about you!" Hermione shouted in his face, losing her temper, "First, you won't be imprisoned because I know you're a spy for the Order, as do some of the Order now too. Second, what you want isn't at fucking play. Do you hear me? I don't want to be a fucking Death Eater, but I will. I don't want to spend the rest of my life having Ron and Harry and the others flinching when they see the Dark Mark on my arm after the Dark Lord is gone, but I fucking will. Because it's not about what I want and it's not about what you want. It's about what's right and it's about the fact that what you do, whether or not you die, affects other people. And so help me, if you even try to get yourself killed or do yourself in, I will drag you back from the abyss kicking and screaming the whole fucking way! Again and again and again. Is that clear?"

Snape glared at her furiously but he didn't bother responding.

"You don't get to die because your death will affect other people. I don't get to die because other people need me."

"When the war is done, Miss Granger, there will be no one who will care about my death and no one left who will have need of me."

Hermione curled her lip at him in a perfect replica of his fiercest expression.

"I'm going by enough new names today that 'No One' is just another I will add to my list of identifications," she snarled at him.

"If you're going to get attached then I'll be leaving now," he informed her, his hands gripping her sides and attempting to lift her out of his lap.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, squeezing him with her thighs to anchor herself in place before tangling both hands into his long, greasy black hair. She was surprised momentarily by the silky feel of the strands, but she didn't react.

"You're being unreasonable," Hermione warned him, "And this is a pointless discussion. Currently neither of us will change our opinions. That does not negate the fact that you need to teach me everything you know - about everything. More now considering you don't intend to survive. Stop pinching me, too. It hurts."

"I find I prefer Mina to Hermione," Snape told her coldly.

"Of course you do," Hermione rolled her eyes at him, "Mina is more like you and Hermione is too stubborn to be pushed into what you want."

"You realise, don't you, that this war will most likely leave you with a split personality disorder?" he told her and Hermione bit her lip when he released his grip on her sides to lower them to the small of her back. She internalised her reaction as best she could when he used the hold to grind the junction of her thighs on the erection inside his boxers.

"What's that Indian proverb?" Hermione asked instead, knowing he could hear the huskiness in her voice at the strange throb that swept through her, creating an ache in her nether region, "There are two wolves inside of us. One is Evil. It is hate, jealousy, anger, lies, ego and greed. The other is Good. It is love, kindness, humility, happiness, hope and truth. The one that wins is the one you feed... Mine simply have names. The evil one is Mina - she will be fed and she will grow strong. But the other is Hermione. And nothing will be able to make me stop feeding her."

"If you're not careful, your personality will split that way," Snape informed her and Hermione's breath caught when he pressed his hips up, holding her tight against his groin and driving aching pressure against the throbbing between her legs.

"My personality needs to split that way. Right now the Evil wolf is weak and has spent her life half-starved and in chains while the Good wolf paraded about freely. I must simply unleash them both and train them to sit side by side. And I need you to teach me how."

"My Good wolf is so sickly and weak that you are asking the wrong person," Snape warned her, rolling his hips under her again.

"So feed him," Hermione rolled her eyes, "And stop tormenting me. Show me what to do."

He smirked at her wickedly then and Hermione squeaked when he drove his hips up beneath her again while his fingers moved to capture her nipples, pinching them between his thumbs and forefingers.

"I take it you haven't done this before?" Snape asked, sounding wickedly amused by her undignified squeak.

Hermione shook her head, her eyes wide with surprise at the sensations stirring to life inside her.

"Roll your hips," he told her, leaving her nipples to grip her hips, guiding the way she rolled them against the hard steel inside his boxers. Hermione did as he instructed, squirming at the way it felt to do so, the glide of the silk against her nether lips sent tingles racing up her spine and spiralling inside her, gathering to build on the ache there. She was so focused on doing it properly that she startled when he bent slightly, capturing her right nipple in his mouth and nipping it gently. Hermione gasped in surprise when he flicked his tongue over the pebbled peak, glancing up at her and smirking wickedly. Hermione could see the amusement glittering in his dark eyes and for some reason the sight of it emboldened her. It always had. Years spent as his student suggested that amusement foretold a tongue-lashing and degradation if she didn't take measure to improve something.

She was delighted when he nipped her again in response to the way she lightly scraped her nails against his scalp and arched into his touch. She didn't know where her deviousness came from, but Hermione found her nervousness and self-consciousness completely melting away and she realised with a jolt that though he'd said she had to earn the right to take control away from someone else by mastering her own - it was much more fun to do so by relieving someone else of their control. Not in the sense of forcing him to do anything, simply in the sense that she felt his hands tighten on her hips and knew she had elicited a response from him. It felt surprisingly good to be able to do so when he prided himself on being so unshakeable.

He moved to her other breast, giving it the same treatment while Hermione grinded on him. Hermione felt her heart begin to race in her chest. She felt naughty and promiscuous to be essentially hooking up with a teacher. A little giggle escaped her when she recalled the previous year when Lavender had accused her of shagging her teachers for such fantastic grades.

"Something funny, Mina?" Snape asked her, sounding amused and curious at her outburst.

"You won't think so," Hermione said, giggling some more.

"Try me," he challenged.

"Last year Lavender accused me of shagging my teachers for better grades," Hermione told him, still giggling, "Claiming that I obviously didn't do as well in your classes because I wasn't shagging you."

She didn't know which one of them was more surprised when a bark of laughter escaped him and Hermione realised he appreciated the irony.

"I'm still not going to give you better grades," he warned.

"You're technically Headmaster and no long in charge of a class now, anyway," Hermione told him breathlessly when he drew her breast into his mouth, using his tongue to work the nipple against the ribbed roof of his mouth. Her head dropped back at the sensation and Hermione sighed softly, a little mewl of sound escaping her parted lips. It turned into a moan when one of his hands trailed south from her hip, his fingertips trailing over the wetness she could feel gathering between her legs.

She had read enough about sex in her short life to know all about how her body was responding to his ministrations and she knew it was normal. She was also enjoying his touch too much to be embarrassed by the sounds escaping her. Something that she deemed useful when he burrowed one long finger between her nether lips and buried it inside her aching passage.

"Hold onto me," he instructed in that silky, husky voice of his. Hermione caught sight of his smirk when her whole body quivered at the sound. She interlocked her hands behind his neck when she realised he meant to flip them. His finger was working inside her carefully, curling and pressing against the sensitive walls of her passage, making it hard to think. She found herself on her back, her head towards the end of the bed with Severus Snape between her bent up knees and she jolted in surprise when she felt him press a second finger into her tight sheath.

He ceased his instruction and all talking then, Hermione noticed, clearly intent on teaching her through demonstration. She got the feeling he wanted her to simply experience what he was doing to her, intent on familiarising her with the way sexual intimacy felt. His fingers worked inside her while his mouth tormented her breasts and Hermione found herself moaning softly, arching into his touch and rolling her hips as she chased a strange tightening ache inside herself. She chased it until she caught it and Hermione cried out in surprise when she felt a rush of endorphins inside herself, her body tightening, clenching and spasming and she realised Snape had just worked her into orgasm. The euphoria of the release was all but alien. She'd achieved it once by herself last year, though it hadn't felt so powerful.

Hermione hissed in surprise when he used his thumb to press soft circles to the bundle of nerves at the top of her slit when he kissed his way over her ribs, trailing light, wet kisses and licks over her stomach and then further south. Her eyes widened in surprise when his tongue laved the length of her slit, his fingers still tormenting her while he went to work with his tongue.

"Mina," he murmured quietly and Hermione lifted her head to peer down at him carefully. She raised her eyebrows in question before she felt one wetted finger trail a little further down the length of her slit. She realised he'd spoken in soft precaution, meaning to ready her for what was to come. His tongue dipped into her slit as his fingers curled further around. She arched her hips. A nervous fluttering tightness inside her tummy made her want to warn him away, but she didn't. She'd read about anal sex in the past. She knew that with the proper preparation, many people enjoyed it. She also found that she trusted Snape not to botch it or hurt her any more than necessary. She felt her body tighten further in anticipation when he smeared some of the wetness from her pussy further around. She marvelled at his skill when he returned his tongue to her clit, laving it attentively, while he pressed his first two fingers into her pussy and his pinky pressed lightly against her rectum.

"Relax, Mina," he whispered against her flushed skin, "The tenser you are, the more it will hurt."

Hermione knew he was right. She'd read that. She read about the idea of pushing outwards while her partner pushed inwards. Taking a deep breath, Hermione relaxed her body, laying her head back on the bed so she didn't have to meet his gaze. When she focused her attention on pushing outwards with her pelvic floor muscles, she felt the slight sting of his finger penetrating the puckered little hole. He pressed until his finger was embedded to the knuckle. It felt uncomfortable. It felt a little bit wrong.

And yet, it felt strangely... intriguing too.

"Are you alright?" Snape asked her and Hermione made a little sound. She didn't really know.

"Your nail is sharp," she said when he didn't move his pinky, even as he curled his other fingers inside her pussy.

"I know," he murmured, "I'm going to move now."

Hermione whimpered when he did. She preferred the feeling of the withdrawal to the inward plunge, but it also made her nervous. It felt somewhat like it did when she used the loo, only without the mess. When he pressed back in again slowly, Hermione squirmed.

"You need to relax," he warned her, "This is just one small finger. By the revel you need to fit an entire penis in here. And given Fenrir Greyback's proclivity for anal sex and his size, that's going to be a much more imposing penetration. Relax. Stop thinking so hard."

"I don't like it," Hermione admitted.

"You will," he replied smoothly, his tongue flicking at her clit, "By the time the revel comes, you'll enjoy anal sex as much as regular intercourse."

"Well I've only done that once too, so, you know, that's not much right now."

"You're thinking too hard about this," he informed her, "Hush your thoughts and simply feel. The more relaxed you are, the sooner you'll enjoy it."

Hermione bit her tongue on the replies she wanted to hiss and tried to simply feel what he was doing. She kind of hated him a little when it worked.

"You're not going to... erm... tonight are you?"

"No," he repiled, "I'm going to fuck you here tonight," he pulsed his fingers inside her pussy.

"Not the other one?"

"No. You're nearly breaking my finger. That muscle needs to stretch and get used to being used this way. Our bodies are naturally used to working the muscle for the withdrawal," he explained as he withdrew his finger to the tip, "But this hole is not yet used to penetration."

He punctuated the statement by plunging his finger back into her and Hermione hissed at the biting sting when her whole body tensed in protest.

"Don't like it. I hate Death Eaters," Hermione whined.

She was too busy focusing on her annoyance over the idea of being fucked in the arse by someone to realise Snape was carefully pressing his ring finger into that hole as well.

"Oh, God," she sobbed when he tunnelled them both inside her. She felt her body stretching and straining, trying to accommodate the new intrusion and she arched when he coupled the entire thing with pressing the fingers inside her pussy against the back wall. The feeling of his fingers rubbing her through both, combined with the way he suddenly sucked on her clit sent her careening into a second orgasm.

She kind of hated him for pushing her into orgasm so suddenly and without warning, and she kind of hated the way the orgasm made the intrusion inside her bottom feel good instead of bad. She hated it because she knew then that it could feel good. She was still coming down from the high of her second orgasm when he removed his fingers from her orifices and crawled up her body. Hermione felt the brush of silk against the backs of her thighs before the press of hot flesh tunnelling into her.

She might've died a little bit too when the tunnelling kept going and she realised that he must be very well endowed. Her fluttering sheath worked to accommodate his cock as he thrust into her smoothly. She was so wet from what he'd already done to her that there was no resistance.

"Fuck!" she heard him growl by her ear, "So fucking tight."

Hermione realised she'd surprised him and he hissed between his teeth when her body pulsed with aftershocks of the orgasm, clenching down on him. She whined throatily when the clenching around a suddenly much thicker, longer and hotter tool impaling her pushed her dangerously close to orgasm again. She wasn't a virgin, so there was no pain beyond the slight bite of having him so deep inside her, pressing against her womb insistently. Instead she was overwhelmed with how full she felt with him inside her and Hermione realised with a terrible start that she liked it. In fact, she loved it. She loved the feeling of being filled up to capacity, her body stretching, trying to fit even more inside.

The feeling of loss and emptiness when he withdrew almost all the way caused a sob to catch in her throat and she opened her eyes to find her hands clutching at Snape's biceps needily. He lifted his head from her neck, where he'd been kissing her skin to meet her gaze as he drove back into her.

"Harder," Hermione whispered, forgetting all inhibition then. She wanted it hard. She wanted to feel him driving into her like he couldn't stay away. When he snapped his hips, thrusting into her harder, Hermione thought she might die. Some distant recess inside her mind was marvelling and exclaiming over the notion of Snape being good in the sack, but the rest of her was just caught up in the feeling of him driving into her. Three deep thrusts pushed her over the edge again and Hermione clutched him needily, clinging to him like he was the only anchor in the sea of pleasure he cast her into.

She'd never felt anything like it and all she knew was that she wanted to feel it again. The Mina within her wanted to wrap herself in pleasure like a wanton whore, and Hermione realised with a jolt that perhaps it wouldn't be so horrible to have to participate in a revel. Hermione, the innocent little know-it-all inside of her wanted to be embarrassed and shy, but the Mina inside her was a wanton vixen and she wanted pleasure. Would take pleasure wherever she could get it. Snape hummed in approval when Hermione buried her lips against his throat and bit him hungrily. She pulled at him, wanting more, needing more.

He gave it.

Hermione lost count of how many times he brought her undone. She found herself with her legs looped over his shoulders, him driving into her so hard it ached inside her. She knew she would be sore tomorrow, but she didn't care. She needed this. She needed complete immersion in pleasure and in Mina if she was going to survive this new Dark world she was treading. She also needed to get her body used to being brutalised by men. The sounds she was making and the feelings he was driving into her were wild and unrestrained.

"More," Hermione heard herself beg, arching into each thrust and she nearly lost it again when she heard him laugh. A genuine laugh that seemed almost delighted by her response. She cried out in protest when he pulled out of her. Her eyes wide and frantic on his face, trying to pull him in again.

"Flip over," he told her, smirking now.

Hermione didn't even hesitate as she flipped over, getting to her hands and knees. She watched the way Snape got off the bed to stand at the edge before he pulled at her until she was perched on the edge of the bed. He pressed his hand to the small of her back, forcing her to arch down, canting her arse up higher before he sheathed himself inside her again. Hermione sobbed at the way the new position drove him deeper. Her body clenched around him and she felt his nails bite into her hips as though she'd nearly tested his control. She was so lost in the feel of the deep thrusts that worked her special spot that Hermione almost missed the whispered charm he murmured. She knew it. A lubrication charm.

"Ungh," she groaned, arching and toppling into orgasm when he pushed two fingers into her arse. The charm had them sliding in easily, so easily that it didn't even hurt and Hermione's body began to shudder with the effort of another orgasm. She felt lightheaded with euphoria and Snape still wasn't stopping. He fucked her harder then, jerking on her hips, his fingers biting into her flesh.

"Oh God, oh god, oh god," Hermione chanted when he did it all with his fingers still penetrating her back entrance deeply, the hard thrusts of his body against hers driving them deeper. She hissed, entirely lost to pleasure and realising she was aching for more.

"More, Snape," she begged ragged, "I need more."

His dark chuckle was accompanied by another finger and Hermione found herself rearing back into his penetrations. His free hand - no longer needing to jerk her back - moved to her clit again and Hermione realised what she wanted.

"Give it to me," she heard herself command.

"You want this?" he flexed his fingers in her rectum.

Hermione shook her head no. She did, but she didn't too.

"This then?" he asked, and she felt the way his cock twitched inside her pussy.

She nodded. She wanted to feel him come inside her. She wanted to feel him coming undone.

"Hold on then," he warned, "Lock your elbows."

Hermione did as she was told, though her arms shook precariously. She was close to collapse. He withdrew his fingers from her rectum and reached around gripping her breasts in both hands and Hermione wondered if she'd died when he began to piston his hips into her so fast that the pleasure blurred together. He pinched her nipples, the slapping sound of hard, rough sex filling the air and Hermione clung on for dear life as her vision went white and a scream tore from her throat. He buried himself deep inside her, pumping her full of him spunk. Hermione swore she could feel the heavy wet spurts splashing against her womb and a strange sense of completion overtook her as the orgasm slammed into her like a freight train. Her elbows gave out and Hermione groaned when he fell with her, driving him impossibly deeper as he sprawled on top of her.

He wasn't heavy, Hermione noticed. In fact, it felt good. His weight pressing her into the mattress made her feel strangely content. So content that she dropped right off to sleep with him still inside her.


	8. Chapter 8: Assimilation

**A/N: Sometimes I wish the FF had a 'tags' system like AO3 does so I could better warn you all of what you might encounter in this fic so as to avoid alarming you, but other times I'm kind of pleased that it doesn't have them. I rather adore the number of you who are enjoying the story though you might've balked or been scared off had you read the many warning tags I could have used. I'm also having the time of my life writing this in such a way that it's altering your perception of the ships, the tropes, the darkness and the characters. I know I'm losing some of you thanks to the content, but those brave souls among you who are reading on despite your misgivings, you are my angels. **

**Those depraved souls among you who live for this kind of grittiness, I can only promise there is more on the way and not at all in the ways you might expect. Also, It should be noted that while this is a Draco/Hermione/Rabastan fic, as per the tags, this fic will include Hermione shagging a bunch of other people too (obviously). Anyway, I know you're all hankering for some more Draco action and more of Rabastan, but I should warn you that it might be a while before we get to the sex with them. I know when and how I want it to happen, and I promise that no matter how much you're saying you want it, you're not ready for it yet. Trust me. When it comes, it will be all the sweeter but it's not ready yet. Thank you SO MUCH to all of you who've been reviewing. I'm so pleased you enjoyed the last chapter especially. This one is tamer and sweeter, I promise.**

 **Much love! xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Assimilation**

* * *

 _... "Everyone started out a little insane,_

 _But we learn pretty quick how to fake it for the game._

 _Some of you never learn to drop the act,_

 _And under that skin of yours, a heart attack"..._

- **Make a Move (Icon for Hire)**

* * *

She woke alone and aching the next morning. Hermione groaned when she opened her eyes. For a terrible moment she forgot where she was, but then it all came back to her in a rush and Hermione felt her cheeks heat to crimson as she recalled why she was so sore. On the table by the bed was a stack of books and a note with familiar, spiky handwriting.

 ** _Bedtime reading_**

Hermione smirked, realising they were all books on Dark Magic. She felt a thrill run through her at the idea of reading them. Her whole body throbbed when she tried to reach for one and Hermione groaned again. Merlin, she ached all over. Her entire nether region throbbed and Hermione decided the loo and a shower were in order. Dragging her aching body from the bed, she grimaced when she realised she was naked. Not that it mattered much, she supposed. Snape had seen it and touched it all. With that in mind, and his comment about her needing to be comfortable and confident in her own body ringing in her head, Hermione located her discarded towel from the previous night, along with some clean knickers. She carried both, along with her wand, out of the room.

Her thighs screamed in protest as she tried the stairs and she slipped down the last few, cursing foully. She cursed all the more when she spotted Snape sitting in the lounge room at the base of the stairs, a pot of tea in front of him and a book open on his lap. He eyed her levelly, his expression blank, but Hermione could see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"Shut it," she warned, not caring that she was being rude and disrespectful, "Don't say a word. I don't want to hear it."

"Come here," he commanded, ignoring her words as he beckoned her with one hand, moving the book from his lap with the other.

"Why?" she asked warily.

He didn't ask again. He simply waited. Hermione kind of hated him for the way she felt the urge to go to him. She did so reluctantly, gingerly crossing the room until she stood before him. He reached for her towel and her clothes, relieving her of them before he nudged his knees between her legs and pulled her down into his lap until she was straddling him again.

"Ow," Hermione hissed, her battered body throbbing painfully. She didn't know what he was planning but she eyed him carefully, suspecting he meant to teach her something. He always meant to teach her something.

"Sore?" he asked.

"Everywhere," Hermione nodded.

"I'm not going to give you anything for the pain," he warned her, "Your body needs to grow accustomed to being brutalised sexually, if I heal you, it won't acclimatise."

Hermione nodded, knowing it was true even if it was horrible.

"I can make it hurt less, though, if you like?" he offered.

Hermione nodded, she felt miserable. She squawked in surprised when he freed his cock from his robes, lifted her and impaled her on it with a muttered lubrication charm.

"Ow," Hermione groaned, her face screwing up with the sting and throb.

"It will hurt less in a moment," he promised, smirking a little.

Hermione knew he was right when a minute later the ache evened into something else. Like when you warmed a sore muscle by using it again. He was slow and gentle - a complete contradiction to the previous night's wantonness and Hermione let him pull her into him. She nuzzled her nose under his jaw, kissing the skin lazily as he encouraged her to ride him slow and easy. The ache in her muscles eased slowly and Hermione pressed into him. She felt the stirrings of pleasure inside her again, despite what he'd done to her and she knew she'd feel even better with another orgasm.

"Just one," Hermione murmured to him and she heard him chuckle.

"If you insist," Severus replied, "For now, at least."

His silky voice made her shiver and Hermione tipped her head back. She felt naughty, straddling him in his living room. He was fully clothed, having only unbuttoned his trousers to shag her.

"You too," she insisted as she felt him shoving her towards the peak of pleasure.

"That bossiness will get you into trouble, Mina," Snape purred into her ear, nuzzling into her and nipping the flesh tantalizingly.

"I'm discovering I like trouble," Hermione admitted. She arched her back again, nipping his throat when she was teetering on the precipice of pleasure again.

"Don't we all?" he sighed, thrusting faster. Hermione toppled into the abyss of orgasm and she could swear Snape was almost lazy about it as he followed her. Not in the sense that he was rubbish, just lazy like a Sunday morning. Like a lion stretching for something and then relaxing again.

He held her to him a few minutes longer as Hermione tried to catch her breath, huffing slightly.

"Go and shower," he commanded, his hands urging her up as he lifted her back to her feet.

Or tried.

Hermione giggled when her knees wobbled and gave out, causing her to drop back to land on the coffee table with a thud. Snape looked like the cat who got the canary when she glanced at him, still amused.

"You'll have to work on that," he told her, smiling indulgently, "One orgasm is too few to be incapable of standing. Now, get a hold of yourself and walk to the bathroom. Don't let me catch you sitting or leaning against the wall either."

"You're going to check?" Hermione asked, smirking.

"Yes," he answered, "Pull it together. You are in control of your body. Not the other way around."

Hermione laughed as she got to her feet once more, tottering slightly before getting her legs under her control.

"I should have known you'd be as unforgiving a tutor in this as you are in everything else," she commented as she rounded the couch and made for the bathroom.

She showered quickly, choosing not to dwell on the events of the previous day. She had more important things to be thinking about than having shagged her teacher. Besides, it had felt good. Hermione realised it was the Mina-wolf inside her that was currently in control, but that the Hermione-wolf was lying down contentedly and enjoying a nap. Hermione frowned. The idea that the two sides of herself could be in sync over the idea of shagging a Professor, making out with an enemy and toying with another concerned her. Perhaps there was more wickedness inside her usual self than she'd thought.

She blinked in surprise when Snape's face appeared through the shower curtain suddenly as she was rinsing the conditioner out of her hair. He didn't say anything before disappearing again, and Hermione laughed. She felt a strange swell of affection for the man as he left the bathroom while she finished bathing. He was stand-offish, rude, surly and downright mean, but she found him strangely amusing too. She dried herself slowly, grinning when she noticed that he'd brought the towel and clothes he'd confiscated from her into the bathroom. She donned the muggle tights and oversized t-shirt with a smile before leaving the bathroom, her wand tucked into the waistband of her tights.

"Have you eaten?" she asked Snape as she passed the lounge and headed for the kitchen.

"No," he answered and Hermione rolled her eyes. She found a loaf of bread and a muggle toaster, working it quickly she made a stack of toast and ferreted through his cabinets until she found some plates and some jam. She was munching one as she joined him, offering the plate to him before conjuring herself a cup and pouring herself some tea.

"Should we begin Occlumency today?" she asked him, "Or practice dark spells instead?"

He eyed her for a long moment while he ate his toast and Hermione remained quiet, despite the urge to fill the void with conversation, knowing he was thinking.

"Spells," he said, "Occlumency is something you have a rudimentary grasp of. Given what you will endure this evening at the ceremony, you need to be sharp - not half-way asleep with a headache and mental exhaustion. How many dark spells do you know?"

"The Unforgivables and the blood boiling spell I used yesterday," she shrugged, "I know of others from studying their counters in Defence."

"We will be practicing duelling," Snape decided, "You will also be reading those books I left in your room. You need to familiarise yourself with those spells and learn to produce them."

Hermione nodded.

"I also know about Sectumsempra," Hermione told him and Snape nodded.

"Of course you do," he growled, "Fucking Potter!"

"How am I to practice?" Hermione asked, "I don't actually want to hurt anyone but the other Death Eaters..."

He got to his feet then and beckoned her. Hermione followed after him as he led her down the hall and into his basement. She smiled when she saw and enchanted practice dummy that bore an uncanny resemblance to Bellatrix Lestrange.

"With this."

"Why do you and Bellatrix loathe each other so?" Hermione asked him curiously, "I mean, I hate her because she's vile and insane and completely merciless. But so are many of the other Death Eaters. What did you do to make her hate you?"

Snape eyed her blankly for a moment, as though he was considering whether or not he should answer her.

"I despise her for the same reasons and a hundred others. I have witnessed her cruelty. I have tolerated her suspicions of my status as a spy. She is without conscience," Snape said finally, "She, on the other hand, despises me for another reason. She doubts the loyalty of all who did not go to Azkaban after the first war for trying to find the Dark Lord. She does not believe I wormed my way into Dumbledore's confidence without forsaking the Dark Lord - and rightly so. She also has never forgiven me a horrid encounter of my youth when I was still a young, vile and ruthless Death Eater without conscience myself."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

"She's never forgiven the fact that when I was eighteen, I fucked her," Snape admitted with a twist of his lips. Hermione knew a similar expression of disgust was arranged on her own face, "As you have learned, I have some skill and complete self-control. She's never forgotten what I did to her and resents the fact that I've refused to ever repeat the experience."

Hermione snorted in spite of herself.

"Doesn't Rodolphus resent having so many other men fucking his wife?" Hermione asked, baffled by the notion.

"He enjoys it," Snape shook his head, "Pureblood marriages, as you no doubt know, are rarely founded on love. Narcissa and Lucius are among the very few who go into the arrangement actually being in love. Bella and Rodolphus were arranged by Bella's father. They have grown to care deeply for one another, I suspect, but it is through shared perversion and lack of conscience rather than deep and abiding love. Rodolphus does not begrudge having others - even the Dark Lord himself - fuck Bella because he enjoys watching them do so. He likes seeing her scream. He also enjoys rubbing it in the faces of others who might envy him that he's the one fucking her every night. She doesn't fuck around on him often. Only at revels or by special invitation when he is also present."

"She doesn't seem like the type to pander to his rules," Hermione commented.

"She's not. His only rule for her is that if she ever has a child, it will be his, and when she fucks anyone, he either gets to watch or he also participates."

"They have an open marriage, in other words," Hermione mused, "I don't think I could do that."

"Mina could," he told her, "But Mina would not care for or love the man she married – as Bella doesn't."

"Do you think I'll have to marry in this role?" Hermione asked suddenly, finding no appeal in the notion but fearful of it nonetheless, "The Dark Lord seemed to suggest it to Rabastan yesterday."

"Rabastan is dangerous, Mina," Snape warned her.

"They're all dangerous," Hermione argued.

"Yes, but not like Rabastan. He is young and he spent fourteen on his thirty-two years in Azkaban and yet he seems entirely sane. Or no less sane than he was at seventeen when he was incarcerated. He will try to worm his way into your affections to better manipulate you. He will also try to trap you into marrying him if he can. He loathes Bella even more than you do, but he also admires and in many ways, covets her. And you are just a little too like her in both appearance and some personality traits, not to have his attention. You've already indicated that you intend to fuck him, but do not let it go any further. Is that clear? He is not to be trusted. If anyone in the Dark Lord's service can completely corrupt the Hermione Granger in you, it will be Rabastan."

"And Draco?" Hermione asked.

"I believe Draco still has his Good wolf inside. It is starved, but it's there," Snape offered, looking thoughtful

"Everyone still has a Good wolf inside them, Severus, except perhaps Greyback…" Hermione told him, "Some are just buried deep and so close to death that saving them isn't worth it. If Rabastan's still lives, I will find it. Find it and feed it."

"You mean to honeypot yourself?" Snape asked, "That is a dangerous game, Mina. Were you to try with the Order, I would not hesitate to allow it. They are good, decent people who will not react violently should they learn of your deception. If you slip up after you have made Rabastan fall for you, he will kill you."

"He might anyway," Hermione shrugged, "Any of them could. But if I can feed the side of them that is Good, I can cause them to begin to doubt themselves. I can create anguish and mental conflict. If it saves even one person from meeting death or pain by his wand, it will be worth it."

Snape stared at her carefully. Hermione could tell her was weighing the benefits against the potential for disaster.

"How do you plan to do it?" he asked finally.

"Draco will be easy," Hermione informed him, "He is primed for falling for someone - anyone - who will look past what he is and love him anyway. He is already anguished and fearful of the Dark magics. He's currently little more than a whipped dog that is still seeking affection before being turned from humanity altogether. I will provide that affection."

"And Rabastan?" Snape asked.

"He likes puzzles," Hermione grinned, "He might not know it yet, but he does. He enjoys the idea that he might be able to corrupt me. He's tried to unsettle me a few times and it titillates him when I don't react the way he expects. If I can find his Goodness, I will foster it slowly and carefully."

"Do you have any other targets?" Snape asked her, frowning now.

"None in particular. Greyback is beyond saving, I think. The monster in him has devoured what was left of his Goodness. The only thing to do with him is to get him on my side long enough to keep him from causing me trouble before stabbing him in the back," Hermione told him and Snape nodded in agreement.

"There is something else you should know," he told her after a few minutes of thoughtful silence.

"Oh?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"At some stage in the future I expect the Dark Lord will demanded a show from you and Bellatrix," Snape told her. Hermione marvelled at his ability to sound and look entirely unaffected by his words. She felt ill at his suggestion.

"Fuck her, you mean?" she asked, her face blanching and turning slightly green. She knew cussing was beneath her, but there was no other word she could think of to describe the act as she would engage in it with Death Eaters. It wasn't merely having sexing and it certainly wasn't making love. It was fucking. Cold, hard, brutal fucking.

"Death Eaters are often the basest of beings, Mina," he said, "There is nothing off limits to my brethren. No perversion too great. No horror too much. The rivalry that has sparked between you and Bella will amuse them all awhile and eventually someone will voice the urge to see the two of you fuck each other. Have you ever been with a woman?"

Hermione shook her head. She'd read about it but women didn't appeal to her sexually. Oh she could perve, as she believed all woman did, but it was not for sexual enjoyment. It was for the catty pettiness of comparing her own body and her own assets to others of the same sex to see how she measured up. Her competitive streak was responsible for that.

"You will learn," Snape informed her slowly, waiting for Hermione to nod again, knowing she had no choice. She could already feel that he was correct. She would have to fuck Bella, just as she would have to fuck many of the other Death Eaters. She didn't go for girls, but Hermione was learning there were lots of things she could and would consider enduring for the sake of the role she currently played. If shagging another witch was the least of them – even one as vile in personality as Bellatrix – Hermione could do it. She wouldn't much like it, but she would do it.

"Teach me," Hermione nodded, looking into his eyes, "I don't like women and the idea of shagging that one in particular makes me nauseas. But I know you're right. I will have no choice in the matter eventually. And if I balk, she will think she's won. Teach me to fuck her so well she'll loathe me for the same reason she loathes you."

A cruel, feral smile slipped across Snape's face then.

"That's my girl," he murmured and Hermione could tell he meant it in all senses of the word. As a lover. A teacher. A pseudo-father. A mentor. A friend. He approved of her bravery in the face of her disgust and her fear, and he approved her vindictive streak. She could also tell he approved of how she was willing to logically examine everything he was telling her, refusing to allow emotion to come into play. Hermione had known in the past that she was capable of doing so, though she often worked hard not to. Being too logical and too unbiased and unaffected by things tended to draw funny looks.

But not from Snape. He was as logical as she was. As capable to tamp down emotion in favour of cold hard facts. It was why he seemed so cold himself.

"We will begin tomorrow," he nodded sharply, "You will learn from what I do to you. And then you will learn through practice."

"Going to get us a whore?" Hermione asked, barely able to believe she was having this conversation. She laughed when he nodded.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

"No!" Snape hissed in annoyance when Hermione fired a spell at the practice dummy they were working on. He had her perfecting Sectumsempra first, teaching her the way the slashing motion of the wand mimicked the use of a medieval sword and left slashes accordingly. Already the dummy was hanging in rags and needing to be repaired. Again.

"What did I do wrong?" Hermione asked, glancing at him as the head of the dummy was slashed off entirely.

"You're flicking your wand too widely. Were you to use the spell like that on a victim, you would kill anyone standing either side of them as well. Focus the spell on only the opponent. Like this," he demonstrated, slashing his wand in the air in front of him. He utilised the space as though it were a scrap of parchment and he was slashing abysmal grades on someone's homework.

Hermione watched him carefully before she tried again, this time much tighter and more controlled. When the dummy completely fell apart, Hermione turned to him. He didn't congratulate her or offer any other words of praise. He never did. But he didn't have any criticisms either and that was how Hermione knew she'd done well. Just the way he had taught her in Potions for so many years, she knew silence from Snape was often a good thing.

He repaired the dummy with a wave of his wand. He glanced at her to make sure she was listening before showing her a new spell.

"Aperi veteres vulneribus," he enunciated clearly, with a very subtle twitch of his wand.

The dummy burst open again and Hermione blinked. Her Latin was good enough that the spell made sense. Open old wounds.

"It's a hit and miss if the person you turn it on has never been badly injured, but if they have, the spell will re-open every scar on their body or within it as the case may be. You try," Snape commanded, repairing the dummy again.

Hermione tried it and she frowned when nothing happening. She glanced at Snape. He held up his wand, showing her the way he twitched his wand in an anti-clockwise circle no bigger than a coin. She nodded and tried it again, pleased when the Dummy split open.

"More power," he urged, "Pulverise it, as I did. You have to draw on the hate and fury inside yourself to perform the magic properly. All dark magic is deeply seated in dark emotions. Lust. Anger. Hate. Jealousy. They are the basis of Dark magic."

"But I don't have that much hate inside of me," Hermione protested.

"You do," he argued, "You wouldn't have been able to throw a Killing curse if you didn't."

Hermione nodded slowly before closing her eyes for a minute. She drew on every hateful feeling inside herself. The fury that had raged inside her the previous day as Ron had been tortured sprang into her mind and she performed the spell. She opened her eyes to see the entire dummy destroyed. Not just pieces. There weren't even hunks left. Just tiny bits of rubber. She curled her lip at the fact that Snape had charmed the dummy to be entirely too life-like for her liking. It bled. He'd charmed it to appear like a mannequin in everything but the way it felt to touch it and the way it bled fake blood if she wounded it.

Hermione curled her lip in disgust at the sight it made. Then she looked at Snape again. He was eyeing her speculatively.

"What else have you got?" she asked him, smirking the tiniest bit.

"Read your textbooks," he informed her.

"I need more clothes," Hermione replied instead, "Most of what I had in my bag are muggle things, since we were going to be one the run. If I'm to be seen pandering at pureblood pomp then I need to buy robes."

"You want me to take you shopping?" he asked drolly, raising one eyebrow in what appeared to be horror.

"Well, not really but I assume you're not going to let me go by myself," Hermione shrugged. "You don't want me to be seen running around in muggle clothes do you?"

"Not particularly," he answered, eyeing her too-large shirt and her tights with distaste, "Especially not for meeting with Death Eaters."

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose again as though reaching for patience.

"Fine, go and put on something more appropriate and we'll go," he snapped his fingers at her and Hermione ran up the stairs to change. When she returned to the lounge room she found him pacing in annoyance. He levelled a glare at her when he spotted her. Hermione glanced down at her robes. They weren't anything special. A sundress in a flattering shade of periwinkle blue coupled with the emerald green cloak he'd given her the day before.

The weather outside – which had thus far been dismal most of the summer – was warm enough for dresses for a change and Hermione was taking advantage of that fact only too happily. Snape didn't say anything as he eyed her, before offering her his arm, intending to apparate them. Hermione took entirely too much pleasure from his expression when she took his hand instead of his proffered arm.

"Insolent," he accused her before they disapparated with a crack.

Hermione was smirking wickedly when they landed in Diagon Alley and she released Snape's hand when he twitched it, only to take his arm. She felt a sense of melancholy replace her momentary amusement, however, when she saw the state of the Alley. It was even worse than it had been before sixth year. Most of the stores were dark – the businesses abandoned as people hid from Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

"Where is everyone supposed to get their supplies for school?" Hermione asked, him looking around forlornly.

"The Dark Lord means to initiate an ordinance when the Ministry is overtaken, demanding that everyone go about their business and return to their positions as normal after being subjected to a background check regarding their bloodlines. When the time comes, he means to confiscate the wands from muggleborns and refuse them fair trial. Most will be incarcerated to Azkaban," Snape answered grimly.

"What for?" Hermione asked, aghast.

"Stealing a wand and stealing the magic of other wizards for themselves. He is pandering to the purebloods within his brethren as a means of controlling the population. Everyone will be so busy trying to make sure they can prove they're of magical descent that they will not notice the other more insidious things he means to implement," Snape told her.

Hermione felt her mouth tighten into a scowl. More than ever she felt the burning urge inside her soul to see the Dark lord and his Death Eaters destroyed. And she would. She'd need to get word to Harry and the others, but there had to be more she could do to bring down the ever-growing horror the Dark Lord presented. She didn't say anything else as Snape escorted her down the street and into Twilfitt and Tattings.

She was unsurprised to find that the shop was still doing well. Of course it was. Most of the Death Eaters were purebloods – those who preferred to shop there.

"Well hello," the shop assistant greeted them with a smile. Hermione could tell from the way she eyed them that she thought they couldn't afford anything from the store.

"Severus? Is that you?" an older woman appeared from the back room.

"Deirdre," Snape nodded to her.

"How can I help?" the witch asked, shooing the assistant away, "More teaching robes? I hear you'll be returning to Hogwarts as Headmaster soon."

"Pucey talks too much," Snape replied, "But no, I'm here to have some things made for my daughter. Mina."

He nodded to Hermione, who eyed the woman with the same detachment she'd seen Snape use.

"Daughter?" Deirdre exclaimed, "I had no idea you had a daughter, Severus! Well, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mina, I'm sure."

"Indeed," Hermione replied in the same tone Snape used so often when he was bored before turning to him, "Do you mind if I browse?"

Snape's lips twitched at her rudeness, clearly trying to hide a smirk. She had the distinct impression that he didn't like this woman and approved of her snobbish behaviour. He untucked her hand from the crook of his arm and Hermione slipped away.

"Are you looking for anything in particular, Miss Snape?" Deirdre followed her, leaving Snape to eye the shop assistant – who had clearly gathered he was a Death Eater, if the expression on her face was anything to go by.

"Things to wear when the Dark Lord holds court," Hermione replied evenly, "Not too much black, mind – it's such a boring shade."

"You wish to wear bright colours in the presence of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters?" Deirdre asked, looking startled.

"Do you not stock colour?" Hermione asked seriously, eyeing her in annoyance.

"I do. Of course I do… I just. Arnold has simply never mentioned anyone attending court in colour before. Oh, the occasional shade of grey, I suppose…" the woman looked nervous and Hermione gathered that this woman was the wife of a Death Eater, but not actually a Death Eater herself.

"I'm not suggesting pastels, Mrs Pucey," Hermione rolled her eyes, "But there is nothing wrong with deep shade of purple, blue, green or red. Do you have anything corseted – not excessively so, of course… Oh! Something like this."

She picked up a floor length velvet dress. The midsection was a deep shade of purple with black silk ties criss-crossed over the ribs. The sleeve were long, fitted to the elbow before flaring outwards. It even had a hood on it. She took it off the shelf, intending to try it on and see what she thought.

"What else do have like this? They don't have to be black, or velvet," Hermione told the woman as she carried the garment to the fitting room. Once inside, she hung up her emerald cloak and stripped out of her sundress, replacing it with the dress she'd picked up. Like most well-made wizarding robes, it was charmed to adjust to her size perfectly. Hermione knew the minute she put it on that it was the type of thing she was looking for.

She knew because wearing it made her feel naughty. Her muggle mother would have describe it as being a gothic-victorian style dress and would have told her to stop being silly. To dress properly. Hermione liked it for that reason. It was so entirely _not_ Hermione Granger. Opening the curtains of the change room, Hermione caught Snape's eye, raising her eyebrows at him in askance.

His expression was almost entirely blank and Hermione could see from the way he eyed the dip of the bust and the figure-hugging corset of the waist that, were he her actual father, he'd have disapproved. Another point for taking it. She was intending to take the Death Eaters by storm of desire. Which – for a fraction of a second – she caught flashing in Snape's eyes. Smirking to herself, she turned to the shop owner, and raised her eyebrows.

"Very nice, dear," the woman offered, smiling widely, "Try these too. How many do you need?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted, "However many strike my fancy."

She accepted the others from the witch and took them back into the change room.

"Not this one," she called out, flinging the dress through the curtains when she didn't at all like the way it reminded her so much of Bellatrix. She wanted to look better than the woman, confound it all, without sticking out too much. She wanted to draw attention, but not so much that she was obvious about it. And looking like Bellatrix was a definite no. She could just hear the jeer about trying to emulate the bitch.

"Too short," Snape told her when she came out of the change room next wearing a black and blood-red thing she expected she might find in the muggle world were she to enter a Gothic-Punk store. It had scraps of lace and ruffles, corseted with full length sleeves. It also fell to just above her knees.

"Is not," Hermione protested, "I'm sixteen, not sixty.

Snape narrowed his eyes.

"With the right cloak the length will not matter," Deirdre insisted and Hermione smiled.

The rest of the robes she chose were more conservative – not that they were boring. They were simply better tailored and more conducive to be worn in a duel. Most of those were in dark colours, but Hermione managed to find some in shades of navy, burgundy, and a dark bottle green. She also threw in a few things in shade of rich brown or charcoal grey. By the time she was finished she had several new outfits that were befitting of pureblood culture and she left feeling rather pleased with herself.

"You should've let me pay," Hermione told Snape when they left the store, "I have plenty of money."

"We're supposed to be projecting the image of father and daughter. I'm also supposed to have only recently learned of your existence. As such, it's expected that I might dote on you somewhat," he argued with her.

"It is not. Anyone who knows you would be utterly flabbergasted to see you doting on anyone!" Hermione informed him, "You don't dote. You don't even like other people. And everyone knows it. By making it seem as though you genuinely care for me, you're putting us both as risk."

"That is precisely the point," Snape informed her, "Deirdre will pass on to Arnold and Adrian that I was shopping today with my daughter and that I doted on you – by my standards. Subsequently the Death Eaters will learn of that fact. It affords you a certain amount of protection because many of them fear me."

"Yes, no doubt because you were a loose cannon with no weak spots they could exploit. Making it seem like you care for me makes me a weak spot they can target," Hermione informed him.

"Indeed," he answered, "But you are not a weakness."

Hermione nearly swallowed her own tongue when she realised he was being complimentary rather than unfeeling. She gaped at him from across the bedroom, having apparated home with him and made her way into her room, where she was unpacking her new robes and removing the tags.

"What do I wear this evening?" she asked him seriously, eyeing the collection of new things she'd purchased.

"You intend to make something of a splash and thus garner more attention from the men you seek to honeypot? Namely Rabastan and Draco?" he raised his eyebrows.

Hermione nodded, biting her lip.

"Yet require the practicality of something that will be easy to move in during the ritual…." Snape mused, looking over the items. He stopped on one she'd chosen. It was imitation whale-bone for the corset, thick and protective around her middle with bright silver fastenings. The skirt was long and puffed slightly, burgundy silk covered by a layer of black lace that looked like spider's webs. The sleeves were small, little caps over her shoulders, revealing a deep cleavage plunge and leaving her arms bare. Attached to the corset were three symmetrically arranged silver chains on either side over her hips, accentuating her narrow waist.

"It will leave your arms bare to receive the Dark mark, which you will be expected to wear proudly. The fit and the skin you're showing will do the rest," Snape informed her, "Wear tights and boots under it. And I want you to drink this."

He held up a phial of crimson potion.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, taking it from him.

"It's a potion that confuses the nerve endings. It means that when the Dark Lord turns the Cruciatus curse on you, and when the Dark Mark is applied, your nerve endings will confuse the pain with pleasure. It tricks the receptors in the brain. Not completely. It will still hurt. But rather than being so excruciating that you pierce my eardrums in agony this evening, you should be able to control the urge to scream – unless it's with pleasure. We have reputations to maintain, after all, and I never scream under the Cruciatus curse. Neither will you."

Snape watched her until Hermione uncorked it.

"Will it make the pleasure receptors respond with pain?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Only a little," he nodded, "Not enough to really matter. The way you felt when you woke up this morning will have been worse."

Nodding her head, Hermione drank the liquid down, grimacing at the taste of the wretched potion. It tasted the way she imagined mud might, were she to drink it like chocolate milk. She handed the phial back to him when it was gone and he took it.

"We leave at six," he cautioned her. Hermione nodded again, realising he was going to leave her be awhile. She was grateful for that. She needed to collect herself. Changing out of her sundress, Hermione donned the new dress she'd bought, feeling a whisper of a thrill at the way she looked in it.

She felt more like Mina Graziana in it than like Hermione Granger and that was a good thing, considering what she would face later that evening. She pulled a thick pair of black tights up her legs beneath the skirt and donned her dragon hide boots. She narrowed her eyes on them a moment before using her wand to enlarge the heel slightly, making it a little higher. She didn't often wear heels, but they would make her more appealing, so she did so now. When she was finished with her clothes, Hermione glanced in the mirror. She needed to do something with her hair.

Everything Snape had said suggested she might pass out from the pain and the horrid nature of the Dark Mark ritual. Which Hermione determined to mean it might also make her vomit in disgust. She didn't want to get vomit in her hair. Gathering the silky curls, Hermione braided the length of it down her back, tying it off carefully. It had grown long recently, hanging in the thick rope down to the middle of her back. A few wispy curls escaped the braid to frame her face and Hermione marvelled again at how different her appearance was now.

She simply couldn't get used to the sight of herself.

Shaking her head, she affixed her approximation of Snape's blank expression on her face, pleased when she caught how much it made her look like him. Smirking like Draco next, Hermione tweaked the expression slightly, once again enjoying the way the expression replicated the person she imitated so nicely. Morbidly curious was her favourite expression. She affected a look she'd caught Rabastan wearing the previous day. It was somehow entirely detached, and yet fascinated too.

She didn't quite get it right, she decided. She would need to study him and practice it. When she was satisfied with the expression Mina would wear, Hermione strolled over to the bed and picked up one of the books Snape had given her, settling herself against the pillows and losing herself in the pages filled with dark magic.


	9. Chapter 9: Indoctrination

**A/N: TRIGGERS! So many triggers. And warnings about smut. And torture. And all kinds of other twisted stuff. Also, Thanks so much to all of you who are sticking with the story and leaving me such lovely reviews. And those of you who have stopped reviewing because you feel guilty reading this stuff, I see you. I know you're secretly still here revelling in this wickedness. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me *winks***

 **Much love! xx-Kitten**

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 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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 **Chapter 9: Indoctrination**

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 _... "I am standing on the edge of returning or just running away._

 _I am letting myself look the other way._

 _And the hardest part in all of this is, I don't think I know my way back home._

 _Is it worth the journey, or do I let my heart settle here?_

 _How cold have I become?" ..._

\- **The Grey (Icon for Hire)**

* * *

This time when they arrived at Malfoy Manor, Snape didn't bother knocking or waiting to be invited in. He led her in through the entrance hall and across to the stairs, winding up through the house and into a long hall that Hermione assumed must be some kind of ballroom when there wasn't war waging. He kept her hand tucked into his elbow, escorting her like a proper gentleman and Hermione was grateful for the solid support he provided.

Her heart was racing inside her chest and she was beyond nervous. She was utterly terrified. She was going to be branded a Death Eater. She would be tortured for the privilege and she was going to have to kill someone. Hermione feared she wouldn't be able to do it.

When they entered, the people already gathered in the hall glanced in their direction and Hermione knew it was her moment. Lifting her chin slightly, she walked forwards, affecting a calm she didn't feel. She put her best foot forwards and she felt the Evil wolf inside her soul rise up, surging forwards to take full control. The Good wolf slunk away into the cage Hermione had fashioned for it, securing it tightly inside and tranquilising it for good measure.

All empathy and happiness slipped away. In their place was only a ruthless fury and burning desire for something she couldn't describe. She was aware of the scrutiny she received. She had left her green cloak at Snape's place, wearing only the corseted dress and she could feel many covetous and desiring eyes of many terrible men appraising her. Hermione pretended not to notice them as she strode into the hall. Severus led her over towards where the Malfoys were all standing and Hermione slotted herself in next to Draco easily.

She hid her expression as she stood beside him and allowed her fingers to brush his ever so slightly. He didn't react to the touch at all, his expression never changing, not even in greeting. She suspected the idea was that everyone wait in silence for all to arrive at the summoned meeting. Keeping her eyes fixed forwards, Hermione ignored the way several of the gathered Death Eaters were sneaking glances at her. Snape lowered her arm to her side, standing on the other side of her stoically and Hermione darted a glance at him out the corner of her eyes with a well-placed brush-back of a loose curl.

He returned the look so quickly she would have believed it to be by mistake were it not for the slightest pinch of tension she could feel from him. All afternoon he'd been pacing through the house as though nervous about how she would fare. Hermione could honestly say it concerned her. She was worried that she would do or say something incorrect. He'd been warning her of all the things that the ritual entailed and Hermione was grateful for that. She didn't like to think of how she might have endured it unflinchingly had she not been forewarned.

Slowly the hall filled with more and more Death Eaters and Hermione felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when she did a rough calculation of their number. It seemed he had been recruiting as hard as the Order, for there were more Death Eaters than Hermione had ever imagined. She supposed they must be ranked in order of importance to the Dark Lord. Those closest and most dear to him – namely Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan – arranged themselves nearest their Lord. The Malfoys were almost next in line, Narcissa standing between Rabastan and her husband, Lucius. Hermione frowned. She distinctly remembered being told Narcissa wasn't a Death Eater. Oh, the woman supported blood purity, but she wasn't branded with the Dark mark.

Hermione supposed she must be present as host of the company and of course, as the wife of a well-known Death Eater like Lucius. The blonde haired man stood between his blonde wife and his equally blonde son. Hermione hid her reaction several minutes of silence later when Malfoy's fingertips ghosted against hers, imperceptible to all others. They continued to wait until the hall was almost full and finally the doors creaked closed.

"My friends," Voldemort hissed into the silence, heard easily over the utter quiet of his followers. There was a sense of anticipation in the air, a strumming of finely attuned magical power within the room.

"Tonight we welcome a new and unexpected member to our ranks," the Dark Lord went on. Hermione could see the way everyone darted glances at her curiously when Voldemort looked upon her.

"Yes, our dear Severus has discovered he has a daughter. Mina, won't you step forwards?" the Dark Lord invited and Hermione felt her stomach cramp with fear. Brushing her fingers against Malfoy's one more time Hermione squeezed Snape's elbow lightly before she stalked forwards. The cruel vixen she hadn't realised could live inside her revelled in the attention of the others riveted upon her. She held her head high and arranged a sneering sort of smirk upon her face. She was going for the type of arrogant swagger she'd seen Malfoy exhibit so many times and she wondered how well she perfected it.

She strolled across the hall towards the Dark Lord, her heeled boots clicking in the tense and palpable silence. The little decorative chains upon her corset tinkled as they clinked slightly with the sway of her hips. As she passed Rabastan she could feel his eyes on her like a hot caress and Hermione suppressed a shiver. Bellatrix curled her lip at Hermione in disgust and Hermione was pleased to see that the woman looked to be in a great deal of pain as she stood there. Rodolphus had subtly placed his arm around her back, holding her upright lest she slip down into a pitiful puddle of witch at his feet.

Her smirk grew a little wider at the sight when she saw Bellatrix tremble with the effort of remaining upright.

"My Lord," Hermione intoned softly, affecting the lilting Italian accent she'd exhibited yesterday.

"I give you Mina Graziana-Snape," the Dark Lord announced to his brethren and Hermione listened to the hiss of whispers as shocked followers expressed their surprise, "She is the illegitimate and until recently unbeknownst daughter of Severus Snape. She is also our newest indoctrinant."

Hushed mutterings now came from all around her and Hermione clutched her wand a little tighter.

"Bring out the prisoner!" Voldemort hollered and Hermione turned towards the doors of the hall as they creaked back open. She felt the little hairs on the back of her neck stand on end when she caught sight of Fenrir Greyback dragging a prisoner into the hall. Her eyes slid to Snape for the briefest hint of a second before returning to the prisoner.

He was no one she knew. He was also barely conscious, hauled along in Greyback's clutches. It was clear that his capture had involved torture. Hermione's eyes darted to Rabastan – the man who'd been charged with finding her a sacrifice – and she found him wearing that same expression she'd tried to perfect of his earlier. A combination of utter detachment and emotional deficit with a gleam of morbid curiosity in his eyes. She knew he was watching her for some reaction to the prisoner.

There was little remarkable about the man. His hair was red – which mildly unnerved Hermione – but his clothes and his currently filthy state suggested he was some vagabond who'd been hauled in off the street.

"What is your name, sacrifice?" the Dark Lord demanded of the man when Greyback dumped him in a pile at Mina's feet.

"Charles," the man gasped, his eyes wide and fearful. The smell of him suggested that he'd lost control of his bowels at some point and she felt her lip curl in disgust. She hoped it hid her pity and concern for the poor man. It was clear he feared further pain, "Charles Torball."

"Blood status?" Voldemort demanded of the man, seeming to lurk over Hermione's shoulder.

"I… my parents were muggles," the man admitted. Hermione could tell he didn't dare speak anything but the truth and yet was terrified of admitting such a thing in present company.

"Do you know this young woman?" Voldemort asked, indicating to Hermione.

Charles Torball shook his head, his eyes trailing over her. His was one of the few gazes in the whole room that held no desire as he looked upon her.

"She is your executioner," the Dark Lord informed him delightedly.

A small sob escaped the man at that morsel of information. Were he not already sprawled on the floor Hermione was sure his knees would have given out.

"Please Miss," the muggle-born wizard pleaded with her, "Please don't kill me. I didn't do anything wrong, I swear. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Hermione's heart clenched inside her chest but she'd tranquilised all the goodness inside her, leaving only cold-hearted hate behind.

"Indeed you were," Hermione informed him coldly, her eyes flashing at him. Some part of her – the innocent, Good part of her that knew right and wrong – attempted to stir with pity and a need to help this man, but she knew he was doomed. Doomed by her own hand, no less. She couldn't back out now. The man sobbed harder now, realising he had no hope. Hermione had never seen a broken man before. He cried like a young child, muttering prayers, apologies and begging for his life.

"Kill him," the Dark Lord commanded and Hermione lifted her wand. She felt the surge of hate boil within her, bubbling hotly. Every skerrick of fury she had inside fizzed to the surface and Hermione was shocked by the jet of green light exploded from her wand non-verbally. It struck Charles Torball in his chest, sending him sprawling flat to the floor and ending his life.

Inside of herself, Hermione felt something rip apart and she knew without needing to think about it that it was her soul tearing with the ultimate of all crimes against nature – murder. She was so focused on the internal tearing that Hermione didn't even flinch when Voldemort seized her left arm and lifted it, his own wand trained on it. She hit her knees at his feet as he performed magic so black and so evil that it filled her with nausea.

It didn't hurt per se, it simply made her feel disgustingly unwell and terribly unclean. And then it began. The magic poured into her forearm and Hermione knew it was seizing upon the new tear in her soul, seeking to fill the gaping rip with the blackest and cruellest sense of horror Hermione had ever known. Her body began to tremble, attempting to dispel the terrible magic, fighting against the darkness pouring into the pure magical essence within her.

The sparks of pleasure foretold the pain she should be experiencing as a result. She clamped down tightly on her muscles, clenching her jaw against the urge to struggle and squirm out of Voldemort's grip. The longer the magic poured into her, staining her skin as it blackened her essence, Hermione felt the pleasure inside her grow. It crackled across her nerve endings, setting her heart racing and making her tremble all the more. As it sizzled through her blood, spreading through her limbs and seeping into her torso, then lower, into her abdomen and her secretive places, she knew she was doomed.

Snape had intended to keep her from crying out and she would endeavour to do so. But that goal did not keep her head from tipping back, her eyes closed against the pleasure coursing through her. She wondered at the expression she must be wearing, expecting it would be one of carnal delight. Her breath came in short pants as she realised the pleasure was growing. It began to bite and tingle towards pain and Hermione knew she was going to careen into the waiting pool of bliss with orgasm before it began to really hurt.

The hum of ecstasy was unmistakeable as it left her throat huskily and she heard the huff of appreciation and surprise from the followers at the idea that so painful an experience – one they'd all felt first hand – could manifest as pleasure. Hermione's mind was overtaken by the bliss her body was being subjected to and it never occurred her in that moment to be embarrassed to be orgasming in front of the entire crowd; nor to be disgusted with the notion that it was Voldemort causing the orgasmic release within her.

"Heh!" Hermione heard the sultry whine leave her throat as it slammed through her system, heightening the ecstasy and increasing her bliss tenfold. She no longer squirmed for release against the intrusion within her torn magical essence. She was too far gone for that. The first bite of pain came when the Dark Lord drove a dagger into her flesh and Hermione realised he'd released his grip on her arm, someone else coming forwards, hands clamping tightly onto the tops of her shoulders. She realised dimly that Voldemort needed both hands free, one to wield his wand and the other to wield the dagger as he carved into her flesh

The grip upon her shoulders almost negated the pain of the wounds the Dark Lord inflicted and Hermione opened her eyes, her head still tipped back, to peer into the sharp green eyes of Rabastan Lestrange. He held tightly to her flesh, her body trembling with prolonged release. She could see the flash of heat and desire in his eyes, her own chocolate pair swimming with ecstasy, and she knew how her reaction was sparking lust in the hearts of all the Dark wizards present for her sweet torture.

"Mina Graziana-Snape," Voldemort hissed, his hand on the dagger drawing the snake and skull design all the Dark Marks bore, "Do you pledge your service to me, Lord Voldemort?"

"Yes, my Lord," Hermione moaned, her eyes still locked onto Rabastan's heated green pair.

"Mina Graziana-Snape, do you pledge your loyalty to me - as your Dark Lord – and to your Death Eater brethren?" Voldemort went on and the bite of pain grew more profound as the carving continued, the binding magic pouring into her through the wounds and staining her very soul.

"I do, my Lord," Hermione groaned, her wand arm grasping for something before she subconsciously curled it backward so that she was gripping Rabastan's thigh tightly, her wand clenched tightly in her fist. Rabastan's eyes darkened with wickedness and perverted pleasure at the ceremonial words.

"Release her, Rabastan," the Dark Lord instructed and Hermione shuddered violently as both the pleasure and the pain of the knife stopped suddenly. Rabastan did as instructed, though Hermine felt the hesitation in his grip to do so. She tipped her head to face forwards, towards Voldemort, just in time to see him collecting some of her blood in a phial filled with nasty looking black liquid. Snape hadn't been able to tell her exactly what was it in, though it consisted of the blood of the newest member, the blood of the Dark Lord, some of Nagini's venom and several other far less savoury substances. She believed the uterine lining of a Hag was one of them.

Before she could even begin to regain her wits, Voldemort ceased his actions, his wand aimed once more at her and Hermione's breath came in a sharp and terrible rattle as he unleashed the Cruciatus curse upon her. It was Hermione's first time with the curse and she shuddered to think of how it must feel without the potion in her system confusing pleasure and pain. It surpassed pleasure in a race, slamming into a sharp sting and then exploding into something so painful she couldn't rightfully describe the sensation.

Her jaw ached with the locked muscles, her whole body tight and tense, muscles seizing with spasmodic and unending agony. She had cleverly closed her mouth, otherwise Hermione was sure she'd have screamed bloody murder until her throat collapsed. She knew she would black out. Snape had warned her of this part. The Dark Lord would hold her under the Cruciatus curse while the rest of the ritual was complete. She was soon too far gone to the pain, her body twitching and shuddering, to know of the way every Death Eater in the hall came forwards, their hands slashed open as they smeared some of their own blood into the open wounds on her forearm.

She was blissfully unaware of the way the bastards rubbed it like salt into a blister, tainting her with their own essence and linking them with a blood pact. Hermione knew not if she screamed. She'd been warned by Snape that before her mind would give out, her body would purge itself. She knew on a psychological level that from Snape's descriptions that she would wet herself before her bowels would let go. She knew too, that when it was all over – when every Death Eater had claimed her in brotherhood or sisterhood – the foul concoction Voldemort held would be poured over the wound, sealing all the nastiness inside.

Unbeknownst to Hermione, who writhed in agony, all of those things occurred and the scent of bubbling human flesh could be heard over the shuddering twitches of her body on the floor in the otherwise silent hall. No one laughed at her suffering. No one complimented her ability to keep silent. They all had shared her fate. They all knew the true horror of what she was suffering.

They looked on stoically, some morbidly curious, some fearful, some aroused, and they watched as the final ingredient – the dreaded concoction – was poured over her wound, bubbling the flesh and pulling it closed in a blackened and scarred tattoo of the skull and snake Dark Mark design. They watched the flesh of the teenaged girl – her arm flung out on the cold stone floor, her body in the throes of death – as it took the form of the identical mark they all bore.

The Dark Lord ceased his curse only when the flesh stopped bubbling. The puddle of vomit by the girl's face was acidic and sharp. The mess upon herself was foul. And the Mark upon her arm burned with the terrible pain like nothing else until finally the sizzling stopped and all that remained was the blackened tattoo, sealing the darkness and the horror inside herself, trapping it within her very essence and forever scarring her to the world.

Only then, as the Mark gleamed, swollen and raised, red and angry surrounding the bloodied, blackened insignia, did Lord Voldemort smile.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Hermione Jean Granger awoke as Mina Graziana-Snape with a terrible feeling churning through her, deadening her limbs and blackening her very soul. She couldn't move but to roll to the side and heave up stomach bile – all that remained in her intestinal tract. She'd never felt so disgustingly wrong. So fundamentally broken.

She was sure death would have been better than the way she felt then. The horror of her terribly scarred soul was just the beginning and Hermione gagged and coughed, vomiting until her stomach muscles cramped and nothing else could leave her. She felt an unknown hand brush loose curls back from her face. She heard the muttered sound of a vanishing charm destroying the evidence of her illness.

Hermione opened her eyes, glaring blearily. The room was dark – the curtains tightly drawn. She needed to know where she was. She needed to make sure she was safe.

"Mina?" Snape's voice murmured quietly to her, drawing her attention carefully. Hermione found him standing beside the bed. Her head ached terribly as she dragged her gaze upwards to look at his face. The sight nearly broke her heart. The usually stoic Potions Master was clearly trying for his ordinary stoicism. She could see he was trying to keep his expression blank and unaffected by her state. But his eyes belied his feelings.

She could see the mournful and regretful glitter in those onyx pools. She could see that he felt guilty. She felt tears fill her eyes when she managed to drag her arm from under herself, glaring hatefully at the blackened Dark mark tattooed into her flesh forever. Hot salty droplets spilled from her eyes and Hermione couldn't bear the pitiful, heart-wrenching sob that tore from her throat.

She wanted to go home.

She wanted her mother.

Hermione gagged again, dry-heaving on nothing as she recalled the murder she had committed. She could feel the evil of the dark magic they'd used on her pulsing against her own magical core. She could sense it like some terrible parasite feeding upon her essence. She had killed someone. She'd aimed her wand the way she might've aimed a gun and she'd blasted that poor, terrified man from the face of the earth. She'd snuffed out the existence of another human being and the very idea of it ached and stung so sharply that she writhed in agony.

She could feel the remorse she experienced trying to repair the damage she'd done to her soul. She could feel the way her body shuddered violently, terrible sobs leaving her throat as her soul tried to mend and wasn't able to fully heal with the intrusion of the dark magic the Dark mark had pumped into her.

"Mina?" Snape asked again and Hermione cried harder when she felt the Potions professor on the bed beside her, his hands gently tugging at her. She'd begun trying to gouge the Dark mark free of her skin and he had to restrain her, pulling her against his bony chest to keep her from the fits that wracked her frame and the destructive urge she had to slice open her own flesh.

"I killed him," Hermione sobbed into his chest, clutching at him, "I killed that poor man. I looked him right in the eye and I murdered him."

"I know," Snape whispered into her hair and Hermione could swear his voice was tight with emotion. Hermione felt even worse when she realised that he'd experienced the same thing. That he'd had to look into the eyes of a man he respected, admired and perhaps even loved as his only friend before murdering him.

"It hurts," Hermione moaned, writhing in his hold again as he tried to console her.

"I know," he whispered again. Hermione screamed then. She screamed with the pain she'd experienced. She screamed with the agony and the utterly _wrong_ feeling inside herself. She screamed with the anguish she felt over what she'd done and what she would do again. She screamed for the pain she'd endured the previous night and had kept locked inside.

Snape held her tighter, crushing her to him as though he thought if he held tightly enough, he could hold her broken pieces together long enough for them to stick. Her nails dragged at his back, snagging brokenly in his robes and she bit down hard on the top of his shoulder. He didn't protest or flinch from the pain.

"I want my Mum," Hermione moaned brokenly, sobbing hysterically when the screaming finally stopped.

"I know Hermione, I know," Snape murmured to her. He tangled one hand into her hair at the base of her skull, his long and dexterous digits massaged her scalp. Hermione cried harder when it somehow relieved some of the pain to hear him call her Hermione.

"It feels so wrong inside," Hermione told him between sobs, "Like my soul is trying to heal and can't. Like I've been poisoned."

"It never entirely goes away," Snape whispered, "You'll feel like that for as long as the Dark Lord lives. That terrible stain upon your essence will throb when he summons us all. It dulls, over time, but it's always there. A sleeping serpent coiled around your spirit and just waiting to poison you again."

Hermione cried harder, clutching him impossibly tighter.

"I feel unclean," she whispered when she had herself under control. She would pull herself together. She had no choice. She would clamp down on her sorrow and her disgust and she would survive this.

"Will you help me to the shower?" Hermione whispered when he didn't say anything else, when he just continued digging his nails lightly against her scalp.

"If that's what you need," Snape murmured and Hermione was surprised by his tenderness. She had expected him to be unfeeling in this. He'd endured it after all.

"Did someone help you, Severus?" Hermione heard herself whisper as she pulled back, blinking through stinging eyes as she peered into his face, "When you were branded, did someone help you?"

His grim expression and the hardening in his eyes told her the answer and Hermione cried for him as well as for herself. He lifted her off the bed with surprising ease and Hermione was unsurprised to find herself naked in his hold. She knew, dimly, that she'd messed herself when she'd lost consciousness. She hoped he'd vanished everything and cleaned her up with magic. He cradled her against his chest as he carried her down the narrow stairs of his dilapidated house and into the bathroom. He set her on the bathroom bench, not caring that she was naked as he fiddled with the taps to get the water going and the temperature right.

Hermione blinked stupidly when he stripped before her, baring his body to her gaze as he removed his robes. For a moment she watched him through teary eyes, unable to really process what he was doing before he scooped her into his arms again and carried her into the shower. He sat on the floor of the shower with her laid across his lap, cradled in his arms. Hermione squirmed slightly, desperate to feel the warmth of the water on her aching body. His body was warm and slick against hers beneath the spray and he didn't say anything else.

He simply held her.

When Hermione felt marginally better – enough to want to properly bathe – Snape helped her. He reached up for the shampoo first, lathering it in his hands before working it into her hair, having un-braided it for her sometime while she was unconscious. Hermione wiggled until she was sitting between his bent up knees, her back to his chest when she'd rinsed the shampoo from her hair. He worked conditioner into the wild curls next and Hermione cried at the tenderness of the touch; at the way she felt so cared for.

While he did so, Hermione found her soap and loofa, lathering herself with it. She scrubbed furiously at her skin until it was red and stinging. Snape made no move to stop her. Hermione found it much harder to lather herself in a fury when he was massaging his fingers into her scalp that way. Merlin, how had she never noticed that her Potions Professor had such delightful hands?

"They'll never forgive me," she muttered as she thought of her friends. Of Harry and Ron. The Weasleys. Luna and Neville. Hagrid, McGonagall and her other teachers. Admittedly most of them probably believed her dead. Hermione hoped they did. It would be easier all around to pretend to be Mina without them looking at her and judging on her ability to so effectively play a villain.

"They will," Snape disagreed, "If we all survive this, they will forgive you, Hermione. Potter and Weasley would forgive you anything."

"Not this time," Hermione disagreed, "This is too much. They won't reconcile what I've done. How can they when I cannot?"

"You can," he replied, "You must simply tell yourself that it was Mina, not Hermione. That it was for your own safety and for the greater good. You sacrificed that man's life – potentially saving him an otherwise horrible and drawn out death. He was muggleborn. Had he not died by your hand, he'd have died much more painfully when the Dark Lord's regime takes hold of the wizarding world."

Hermione's shoulders shook with the sobs she tried to keep in. She needed a distraction. Her own skin stung so badly that she had to cease her scrubbing of herself. And so Hermione turned her attention to the only other person in the room who could provide distraction. She turned to Snape carefully, lathering her loofa sponge with more of her strawberry scented soap and began working it over Snape's bare chest.

His hands slipped out of her hair at the very idea, attempting to restrain her.

"Miss Granger," he began but Hermione cut him off when she lifted her pleading gaze to his.

"Please?" she whispered desperately. She needed distraction. She needed to focus on something other than how terrible she felt. And Hermione found herself not only willing to focus her attention on Snape, but also yearning to pamper him. He'd helped her when he didn't have to. He'd suffered the same fate many years before with no one to pamper him. He seemed to see how badly she needed the distraction because he slowly released her wrists again. Hermione watched the way he closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the shower wall. The spray beat down on both of them as Hermione slowly and gently worked the loofa sponge over his skin.

She took special care not to scrub him as hard as she'd scrubbed herself. She worked it over his chest slowly, her fingers twitching to trace the many scars littering his body. She lathered it over his neck and shoulders, lifting each of his arms towards her and working the sponge down each limb, small circular swirls of soapy wetness crossing his flesh. He didn't flinch even once when she scrubbed under his arms and over his ribs. Even when she worked the soapy sponge down his taut stomach, following the trail of black hairs south from his navel, Hermione noticed he didn't twitch even the tiniest bit.

When she reached his manhood, Hermione eyed the appendage curiously. She'd not really had the chance to examine a penis before. Ron had been rather hurried when he'd had his out in her presence, and Snape had distracted her too effectively during their first lesson to let her see much. Even flaccid, he was large. She'd known of course, from shagging him that he was well-endowed, but there was something about actually looking at the appendage and seeing its size that made her shiver.

He didn't even flinch when she smoothed the soapy sponge over him carefully, her free hand moving to grasp the soft flesh and manipulate it to better cleanse him. She worked the soap over the shaft gently before dropping her hand lower and lathering his bollocks as well. She peeked at his face when he was clean, wondering how much self-control it took to be unaffected even when someone was playing with him. She startled, blushing pink, when she found him watching her with an unfathomable expression on his face.

His black eyes lingered on her face, not reacting at her embarrassment over what she'd done. He simply stared at her. Hermione looked down again, returning to her task of bathing him. She smoothed the soapy sponge over his thighs and down to his knees, making sure to wash behind them and all the way down the backs of his thighs too. She was so intent on her task that when she brushed the lower curve of his buttocks, she barely registered what she had done.

Hermione washed him all the way down to his bare feet, lathering the soap over his instep and between his toes. There was something strangely calming about caring for him, even in the face of her own agony and anguish. It felt good to be able to show him some kindness. Especially when she realised he'd probably never been shown much. When she was finished with his legs, Hermione crawled around him, tugging lightly against him to get him away from the wall so she could scrub his back too.

He never said a word as Hermione washed his skin. He simply allowed her to manipulate him however she needed to better clean him. As the soap washed away, Hermione reached to tilt his head into the spray, wetting his hair carefully. And then she returned the favour he'd done for her, lathering shampoo into the long black locks. She took her time about it, rather enjoying the idea that she was washing his hair. She didn't suppose that happened very often.

Hermione made sure to hide her smirk over doing so. She couldn't help imaging the expression Harry and Ron would wear if she ever told them she'd washed Snape's greasy hair. When the shampoo was washed free, Hermione worked conditioner into his scalp carefully. She smiled inwardly when he tipped his head forwards, his chin falling to his chest as she massaged her fingers slowly and firmly against his scalp as he'd done to her. Her hands ached both from the torture she'd endured and from the sweet sting in the muscles from her task but Hermione persisted.

She rather enjoyed the way his shoulders lost some of their tension as she massaged his scalp. When she finished on his hair, the conditioner washing away from the tilt of his head into the spray, Hermione worked her nimble and aching fingers down the length of his neck. He still didn't say a word as she worked, her fingers digging into the knots of tension she found in his neck and across the tops of his shoulders. She drove her thumbs firmly into his shoulder blades, pleased when he curved his spine to better allow the attention.

As she worked, Hermione found herself softly humming the lullaby her mother had hummed to her as a child before bed every night. It was an old one and Hermione could hardly recall the entire tune. She was pleasantly surprised to learn the potion Snape had given her had clearly improved her vocal chords along with everything else. It was a long one, and slow, but she rather liked it. If Snape minded being hummed a lullaby like he was a small child, he didn't let on.

There were scars across his back – even more than those littering his chest and Hermione grazed her fingers over them all as she worked her hands into his muscles, pressing and rubbing, massaging away what she imagined must be years of tension. When he groaned softly at the feel of her fingers digging into the middle of his back either side of his spine, Hermione relished the sound. She doubted very much that it was one many people had ever managed to elicit from him.

In fact, she was suspecting there were precious few people in all the world who had ever heard him emit a sound he didn't wish to make. Hermione felt honoured that she had driven him to it. Honoured and validated, somehow. It was as though this act was washing away some of the darkness she had endured and Hermione realised this could be her balance. Where Mina committed terrible deeds against others, Hermione could simply perform deeds of kindness and care.

The scales of justice balancing precariously between right and wrong would tip and sway terribly, but Hermione was determined to always make sure they returned to the middle. She would ensure they would always balance. It was the only way she would get through all she must do in the times to come. Her hands began to cramp as she worked the knotted muscles of Snape's back until Hermione was sure she would get carpal-tunnel. She was determined to draw another sound from him of sweet ecstasy.

And she was rewarded for the effort with a long, drawn out hum of pleasure and contentment as she pressed him forwards slightly, firmly dragging her thumbs either side of his spine from the small of his back all the way up to his neck. Her hands cramped painfully then as Hermione smoothed them flat across the tops of his shoulders.

"Severus?" Hermione murmured, her eyes widening suddenly as she caught sight of something terribly odd upon her skin.

She felt him tense slightly against her when Hermione leaned her naked body against his back, reaching her left arm beneath his, inner writ facing upwards.

"Is this supposed to happen?" she asked him, watching in fascinated horror as some of the blackness bled from her new Dark Mark.

He tensed, his head snapping up as he reached for her arm, clearly shocked by the sight.

"What did you do to it?" he asked in a voice that was huskier than she'd ever heard.

"I scrubbed hard when I was bathing…." Hermione offered softly her chin resting atop his left shoulder as she peered at her flesh. Just as suddenly as the inky blackness had begun to seep from her skin, it stopped again, washed away with the warm water, leaving as black a stain as ever upon her forearm.

"I've never encountered a mark bleeding the poison out before," he admitted, glancing over his shoulder to meet her gaze.

"Does it mean it didn't take?" Hermione asked fearfully, "I don't want to go through that again. I don't want to try and explain having it disappear."

Snape shook his head, staring at her arm carefully.

"I've never heard of anyone's doing this," he told her seriously, "Some get infected and weep blood and some of the poison out. Yours is bleeding out like ink out of fabric. As though you're too pure for such evil."

Hermione scoffed at that, pulling her arm back and returning to massaging his back. She cried out when the pain in the abused muscles protested. And she jumped in fright when Snape spun on her wickedly fast, grabbing hold of her and searching for the cause of her pain. Hermione smiled sheepishly, indicating that it was her hands that hurt.

"You're causing yourself pain and suffering for the sake of being nice to me?" he frowned, blinking at her as though he couldn't understand the idea. His lip curled back from his teeth slightly.

"I wanted to make you feel good," Hermione admitted in a small voice, "And it was working."

"No wonder the poison is leeching out," Snape grumbled, "Too bloody nice for your own good."

Hermione ignored his chiding tone and stern expression in favour of trailing her fingers lightly over the scars littering his chest. There was long gash over his ribcage as though someone had taken to him with a knife. And another that looked like a burn marring his left pectoral muscle towards his shoulder. From the way it way still red but impossibly silky, Hermione could tell it had been a very bad burn. Part of her yearned to ask him about each of his scars – to listen to his stories of all he had endured in his life – but she didn't.

Instead she trailed her fingers over his skin lightly, smiling a little to herself at the sparse black hairs dusting his chest. Snape was silent once more, watching her as she explored his body curiously. If he minded the attention she paid each scar or if he was bothered by the way she touched him, he didn't show it. Hermione trailed her thumb over his right nipple carefully, smiling in surprise when it tightened at her touch.

"You feel better?" he murmured quietly as she was trailing her fingers over his taut stomach carefully. Even in his bent up seated position, the skin and muscles of his abdomen were tight and wiry.

"Not really," Hermione sighed, her finger circling his navel carefully. Her curiosity about his anatomy was getting the better of her and providing a welcome distraction, "Just trying to focus my attention elsewhere."

She heard the snort of amusement escape him and Hermione smiled at him, trailing her fingers through the strip of hair leading south from his navel. It thickened into dark curls above his manhood and Hermione combed her fingers through the curls with intrigue, enjoying the way the crisp hairs felt silky in the warmth of the shower.

"Another lesson, perhaps?" Snape murmured quietly and Hermione realised that he was suggesting more sex.

She glanced into his face for a moment, noticing that he'd closed his eyes as though savouring her touch. Hermione bit her lip as she trailed her hand just a bit lower, sliding her fingers carefully around the slowly hardening penis there. She explored it with her fingers trailing them over the length of him softly. Her eyes widened slightly as it grew larger and larger. Where it had been intimidating whilst flaccid, it was unnerving when hard. Hermione could swear it was glaring at her.

She snuck another glance at his face, but Snape's eyes remained closed, his head tipped back to lean against the wall. His expression gave nothing of his thoughts or feelings away as she was explored him. She jumped slightly when he moved his hand to capture hers, circling it around his turgid flesh. Hermione held her breath as he guided her hand over him, realising he was showing her how to please him.

Focusing her attention on the task at hand, Hermione took note of the way he gripped her hand tightly around him, smoothing up and down slowly but firmly. She snuck another glance at his face, gauging his reaction. She was pleased by the little frown of concentration upon his features. As he guided her, he began moving her hand faster. Hermione looked on keenly, learning all she could.

He pulled her away from him a little while later, his hands reaching for her hips like he meant to lift her into his lap and shag her.

"I don't think I can," Hermione admitted quietly, "I hurt too much all over… what about if I…?"

She trailed off, resisting his urging hands and lowering her face closer to the serpentine cock she'd been tormenting. Snape huffed out a surprised breath when Hermione opened her jaw, fitting her mouth around the belled end of his swollen flesh. One of his hands snaked into her hair as Hermione slid her mouth as far down the length of him as she could. Which wasn't very far. Frowning, Hermione wrapped her hand back around the base, gliding both her hand and her mouth back up until he was almost free of her.

She tongued the little fold of skin she found on the underside of his cock for a moment before taking him as deep as she could again, her hand working in unison with her mouth to more fully stroke him the way he'd showed her. When she pulled back again, Hermione sucked her cheeks in, hollowing them the way she would were she sucking an oversized lollipop she didn't want to remove from her mouth.

"You said you'd never done this," Snape accused her in a husky voice and Hermione felt herself smile at the tone. It suggested he was shocked by her ability to please him when she'd never tried this before. Tonguing the head of his cock carefully, Hermione explored the head more fully. She dipped her tongue into the weeping head, drawing the flavour of him into her more fully. He tasted a little bit salty, but otherwise all she could really get was the scent of the soap she'd used to cleanse him so thoroughly.

As she sucked him deep into her mouth again, Hermione twisted her head slightly to better explore the veiny ridges of him.

"Shit," she heard him groan softly, his hand in her hair flexing and Hermione realised he was enjoying what she was doing to him. Moving a little faster, Hermione tilted her head back the other way, feeling the flesh in her mouth slide smoothly over her tongue. She narrowed her eyes slightly as an idea occurred to her.

She'd read all about performing oral sex, so she had a good idea of what she was supposed to do – even if this was her first dalliance. Breathing out through her nose, Hermione relaxed the muscles in the back of her throat, forcing him deeper. Her throat spasmed slightly, convinced she was choking, but Hermione wrestled the notion back. A stern command inside her own head demanded she not do that again, having felt him twitch in her mouth.

"Oh fuck!" Snape growled, his hand tightening even further when Hermione felt the length of him gliding over her tongue and down the back of her throat. It was unpleasant, she'd admit, but she wanted to fit all of him inside her. His hand pressed down just the slightest bit, lowering her the last inch until his huge cock was completely swallowed by her.

Hermione trailed her hand to the soft sack beneath his cock, rolling them gently and carefully in her hands, stroking them. She lifted her mouth off him a ways, not so far as to remove the head of him from the back of her throat, but freeing several long inches before bobbing her head back down on him again, taking him deeper.

Her thighs clenched and her pussy twitched at the guttural groan that drew from him when she worked herself into a rhythm, figuring out quickly how best to please him.

"Uuuuuhhhhh," he groaned when Hermione discovered she could still hum with him swallowed whole. She returned her attention, humming the lullaby that played in her head as she deep throated her professor, her hands working over his bollocks and sliding over his thighs hungrily. When he began to roll his hips, bucking them slightly, Hermione knew she was doing the right thing. Both his hands were wound tightly into her hair now, holding her head as he thrust into her mouth.

Hermione didn't stop humming even when he held her head in place, fucking her mouth. She nearly choked when he pulled her head back a little until only the bulbous and throbbing head was in her mouth before driving it deep into her throat again but she reminded herself sternly of the control he'd claimed she needed to have over her own anatomy. Especially since she seemed to have stolen his self-control away from him. The pleasure that idea brought her made Hermione's body tighten and throb delightedly.

"Ready Mina?" he asked, his breath coming in hard pants. Hermione could feel the bollocks in her grip tighten into a taut ball and she realised he was going to ejaculate, "Swallow it. Don't gag. Don't spit. Take it."

The sound of his voice, so husky and gravelly with his loss of control aroused her even more, and Hermione felt her pussy throb and pulse needily. He fucked her mouth faster then, striving for release and Hermione hummed a little louder.

"FUCK!" he roared, burying his cock deep inside her throat and Hermione felt the uncomfortable warmth of semen spurting against the back of her throat. The urge to vomit was strong, not because she was disgusted with the idea of swallowing his come. In fact she felt almost like making him come so powerfully was a reward. Her body simply reacted to the unfamiliar sensation of liquid squirting so far down her throat.

Snape groaned again when her jaw locked, pulsing around him uncomfortably as he held her head in place, forcing her to take every last drop from him before he released her. Hermione coughed only a little as she pulled back from him, her jaw aching from the prolonged angle she'd held it open. She was feeling rather pleased with herself over what she achieved when Snape suddenly pushed her down to her back against the shower floor.

Before she could register what was happening he'd curled both his arms underneath her thighs, tossing her legs over his shoulders and his mouth met the throbbing and pulsing snatch between her legs. Hermione arched into the touch as he drove his tongue into her, fucking her slit with his tongue the way he'd just fucked her mouth with his cock and Hermione heard the low whine of pleasure and slight pain that left her. The position was uncomfortable, the water of the shower beating down upon her stomach, chest and face, her body curled awkwardly in the small shower cubicle.

If Snape cared about any of that, considering his long frame had even less space, he didn't show it. He was too busy feasting on her pink taco to care about things like that. There could be no other word for it. He feasted on her. He nipped, licked and sucked at her flesh like a ravenous beast, taking her clit between his teeth and twisting it this way and that. Hermione cried out when he drove three fingers into her aching sheath, fucking her with them furiously. She sensed that he was indeed furious and that this was her punishment. He didn't like that she'd managed to steal his self-control.

Frenzied, he tongued her hard, grinding his fingers into her, twisting them this way and that, curling them. He pressed deliciously against the back wall of her passage before curling them forwards and scraping his nails into the fleshy spot that drove her wild. Hermione couldn't think under the assault. She couldn't focus. All she could do was give in to the pleasure he pushed upon her, drinking it in and soaking it up.

She arched and cried out with release when the orgasm slammed into her minutes later, rushing through her system like wildfire and burning her already abused nerve endings. Snape didn't let her stop at one. He pushed orgasm after orgasm upon her until Hermione was sure she was losing her mind.

At some stage he lifted her from the bottom of the shower, pressing her into the wall. She knew she moaned like a well-paid whore when he drove his cock into her sheath, fucking her hard. He was wild as he took her, his black hair tangled, his eyes narrowed with fury and passion. Hermione had never seen him so incensed – not even when Harry provoked him in class. She clung to him desperately as he fucked her hard enough that her head banged on the tiles.

Hermione whimpered and groaned her way through too many orgasms to count until they all just seemed to blur together. Her mind swam with pleasure and her body was well beyond her control. Her eyes opened wide when he pulled out of her, spinning her body and pressing her hands and her chest into the wall. His hands seized her hips, jerking her arse out. Vaguely she heard him muttering lubrication spells and then she felt the press of him against her back entrance.

Her body was so lax – so weak with release and pleasure – that she knew he met little resistance as he fed inch after slow inch into her rectum.

"Oh God," Hermione whimpered when he was fully sheathed. It ached and it stung. She'd never felt so full in all her life. It was like nothing she could describe. When he fucked her pussy, she felt full and content. Completed somehow, like a jigsaw with a final piece slotted into place. The feel of him deep inside her arse was like the feel of wearing too-tight clothing that clung and pinched and bit uncomfortably but still somehow felt kind of good.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, his voice silky in her ear as he slowly withdrew. Hermione could only whimper. The answer was yes. He was hurting her. But it was a good kind of hurt. She couldn't think as he pulled almost all the way out of her before pumping back into her with agonising slowness. One of his hands slipped around to toy with her clitoris as he pushed into her again. He was slow about it, his frenzied fucking ceasing in favour of ensuring he didn't brutalise her just yet. Hermione's knees wobbled and nearly gave out to feel him feeding her those delicious inches while his thumb worked her over-sensitive clit in slow circles.

"Oh, God," Hermione groaned again as she realised she was needing something else.

Snape seemed to sense from her outburst that she needed something and he gave her something, alright. Picking up speed slowly, he moved faster, withdrawing faster and powering back in. Hermione clutched desperately at the wall as she felt her hips rock back, greedily sucking him in deeper until his pelvic bone bumped deliciously against her tailbone. The jolt was like a bolt of electricity to every nerve ending and Hermione cried out at the sweet torture.

He was clearly waiting for it too because suddenly he dragged out before slamming back in hard and Hermione squealed with how good the bite of pain was. His dark chuckle only sought to torment her further and he set a driving pace, slamming into her, pounding her arse as skilfully as he'd fucked every other part of her. Hermione's head dropped forward, banging against the wall with each powerful thrust. She was too far gone to care.

He used his hands to torment her clit, pumping his fingers into her pussy wildly as he pounded her and Hermione lost control. The orgasm slammed into her so hard she blacked out for a few seconds.

"Ah fuck," Snape cursed, low oaths leaving him as her whole body clamped tightly around his. Her juices leaked down her thighs and she sobbed with the release when he bucked into her even harder a few more minutes, the sting of the tight, abused ring of her rectum being breached singing in her veins before he buried himself to the hilt and filled her up with his come.

Boneless, the only thing holding her up was Snape's weight against her. He pulled out of her gently before leaning into her back. She could feel his lips on her shoulder, kissing the skin delicately.

"You did well," he murmured into her ear after he'd caught his breath and Hermione wondered if she'd imagined his kind words. Severus Snape was never complimentary. Hermione huffed in tired surprise when he peeled her off the wall, scooping her back into his arms once more and stepping out of the shower. He turned the taps off and wordlessly dried the pair of them, not at all bothering with clothing before he carried her through the house and back to her bed.

Hermione's eyes drooped closed, her head lolling against his shoulder as she slipped into a blissfully contented slumber before he could even tuck her in.


	10. Chapter 10: Corruption

**A/N: You have no idea how much fun it is to write this story and how much I enjoy sharing it with all of you. I'm so pleased so many of you are still enjoying it. Also, I don't know if you've noticed, but this one is going to be a long ride folks. I've cleared 100k words pre-written and I'm still just scratching the surface. Obviously this fic isn't going to keep to canon, but I would like to note that the Battle of Hogwarts is a no-go for this one, my darling cherubs. I have so much more exicitng stuff planned in favour of a silly battle for one little castle. Voldemort was thinking too small-minded for me when JK wrote him *winks lasciviously at you*. I'm thrilled by how many of you are pulling for Sev in this fic too. But don't worry, the much awaited Draco/Hermione and Rabastan/Hermione chapters are coming (though I'm not telling when). Let me know what you think of this chapter everyone, it's a favourite of mine. They all are, really. Another 10k monster of a chapter coming at you here, but I promise this one is work-safe.**

 **Much love! xx-Kitten.**

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 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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 **Chapter 10: Corruption**

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 _... "I didn't want to lose you by what I'd done,_

 _Caught in the grey._

 _I don't want to look you in the eye,_

 _you might pull me away._

 _I don't want to give you the chance to make me stay"..._

\- **The Grey (Icon for Hire)**

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Dragging herself down the stairs, Hermione went in search of food. She had no idea what day it was, nor what time it was. She didn't know how many days it had been since she'd been captured by Snape and turned spy for the Order. The Dark mark branded into her skin was ugly and painful every time she looked at it. She'd spent much of the previous day in bed after she'd awoken.

Her body ached and her bottom was sore. She hadn't been able to face Snape and so she'd stayed in the bed, the door to her room tightly closed. She'd grown restless enough after a little while to pick up the books he'd given her on dark magic, pouring through them with her usual fervour. The magic she learned was horrifying and terrible but she knew she would need to know it all at some stage in the future.

Often she found herself scratching at the dark mark branded into her arm. Often she felt a roll of nausea inside herself as her body continued to try and expel the poison that had been forced into her. Her soul was still torn – she could feel it like an aching gash – bound together with dark magic like terrible stitches that weren't having the desired effect. Some more of the blackness bled out of her brand when she searched for food, silently preparing enough for Snape too. She didn't know where he was. She hadn't seen him since they'd showered together.

Instead, Hermione set to work on preparing them both some soup – which she was inexplicably craving. She raided his stores, adding this and that, whatever she found that might make it taste good. She didn't know how long she'd been cooking when she noticed the black ink seeping from the tattoo on her forearm. It smeared over her skin like slow-flowing blood, sluggishly staining the flesh.

Hermione eyed it in annoyance before wiping at it with a cloth she found in the sink. Underneath the seepage there was no visible evidence of a wound or a hole where the ink could be leaking from. Hermione could only ascertain that the poison was simply seeping from her pores like sweat. She didn't much like the idea. As loathe as she was to bear the Dark mark upon her flesh, she didn't want to deal with the questions that would come of it leeching out and she didn't want to face another ritual to redo the terrible magic.

She suspected it was a result of the magic inside her trying to force the evil out. She wasn't recovering as she should, though she was wracked with remorse over the murder she'd committed to rip her soul. She wondered too if being muggleborn had anything to do with the problem. After all, she imagined she was the first mudblood to ever be branded a Death Eater. It stood to reason that her body might reject the magic.

She'd learned through careful research that muggleborns could only be born as a result of there being a convergence of magical lineage in both her muggle parents. Meaning that somewhere in her family tree on both sides of the family, there was a witch or wizard as one of her ancestors. The same anomaly resulted in Squibs, only in the reverse. For a Squib to be born, there must be a muggle somewhere in the maternal and fraternal line of the Squib's family tree. First, second and even third generation was uncommon. Usually muggleborns like Hermione manifested when the long dormant magical gene within her muggle ancestors converged together, receiving one magical gene – dormant in her parents – from each contributor to her DNA resulted in her being born a witch.

It was possible that as a result, she was more magically gifted and also magically more powerful. Hermione wondered if she was powerful enough that her body could reject the magic of another. It seemed unlikely, but she could think of no other explanation. As she fixed her soup, Hermione pondered the merits of the argument, noticing idly that once she'd wiped away the seeping black mess, no more bubbled to the surface in its place.

She cooked carefully, turning her attention to where Snape might be. She'd not seen him or heard from him in a while. Perhaps he'd only been checking on her when she slept. Her bottom was still sore from their shower experiments, so Hermione assumed it had only been one night since then. Glancing at the mark on her arm again, Hermione studied it carefully. It seemed somehow both more and less heinous when it was on her own skin.

She shuddered at the things she imagined her friends would say when they saw it. Ron would curl his lip and recoil in disgust. Harry would look away uncomfortably before breaking something in a rage. Ginny was a curve ball. Hermione knew better than anyone that being possessed by Voldemort's horcrux in her first year had done irreversible things to the girl. She knew too that Ginny would look at the Dark mark on Hermione's arm and while she might look ill, she would be curious.

Not that Ginny flirted with Dark magic. Just that she was curious by nature and her past experiences had made her dangerously curious about Voldemort. And how could she not be? She'd encountered and indeed been possessed by a piece of the twisted bastard's soul. To make matters more confusing, it had been the sixteen year old piece of himself. Hermione had researched Tom Riddle extensively. In his youth, before his death and subsequent rebirth, he'd been handsome, charming and well-liked by many. It was why he had so many followers. Now, people recoiled from the sight of his terrible form and from the evil he unleashed.

But back then he'd been too charming, too sly and too cunning to be perceived as the monster he would become. Hermione didn't like to think about it. In fact she often worked to actively avoid thinking about the idea that Ginny had been a little bit smitten in her first year with the boy in her diary. Hermione felt ill as she recalled too that Ginny was unerringly attracted to Harry. The notion that Harry was a horcrux as well unsettled Hermione.

Could it be possible that her attraction was not actually to Harry, but to the piece of Voldemort that lived inside Harry? She wouldn't knowingly be attracted to him for that reason. After all no one else knew or suspected Harry of being an accidental Horcrux. Hermione only wondered how Ginny's attraction to Harry might change after the Horcrux was destroyed.

Leaving the soup to simmer for a while, Hermione picked up an apple out of the bowl on the bench and walked off through the house intent on finding Snape. She wandered the house in search of him, coming up empty until she reached a narrow room off the basement where he was brewing over a potion carefully.

Hermione leaned in the doorway, watching him. She smiled inwardly when she noticed that her shampoo had clearly done him some good. His usually greasy hair hung in smooth, clean wings of raven black about his face. His attention was riveted upon the potion, his hands working tirelessly as he stirred the potion with one while the other added ingredients. As she looked over his work bench Hermione realised with a start that he was brewing Wolfsbane potion.

She felt a terrible flip inside her tummy as she recalled that not only was the full moon in a few days but also that Ron would now be a werewolf. He would undergo the change for the first time in five days time. Hermione's heart clenched with pity and sadness to know what he would suffer and to know she wouldn't be there to help him through it. She stayed silent as she watched the potions master work.

It hardly seemed real to her that this stern, stoic and intimidating wizard was the same one who'd shagged her into oblivion twice now. The idea that those same fingers that were manipulating potion ingredients had been inside her, tormenting her like a minstrel at his harp and making her sing. The idea that he could be so controlled at all times and yet have unleashed such a frenzy of desire and fury upon her almost made her shiver.

She realised then that there was far more to Severus Snape than she'd ever considered. He was more than a two-sided coin. He was multifaceted like a diamond, glittering in different lights, revealing many different faces and personas. Playing so many different roles.

"You're staring, Mina," Snape warned her in a low, silky voice without looking up from his brewing and Hermione marvelled at his ability to sense her without having looked in her direction.

"I've never watched you brew before," Hermione told him, imitating the tone he'd used, "I've been watched by you as I brew a hundred times, but watching you makes me feel like a bumbling baboon."

The corners of his mouth tipped into a smirk at her honesty.

"Wolfsbane for Draco?" she asked when he didn't say anything else.

"And Weasley and Lupin," Snape nodded, "You will deliver it to them when it's finished."

"You're letting me go?" Hermione asked, "Alone?"

"Are you frightened?" he mocked lightly, glancing over at her for a moment.

"No," Hermione lied, though the idea of facing them after what she'd done did torment her, "I'm just surprised you would let me go to them alone. Aren't you afraid I won't come back?"

Snape smiled cruelly then.

"I _know_ you shall return, Mina," he replied, "You are not the same girl you were four days ago. You will return. And quickly, I imagine."

"What makes you think so?" Hermione asked nervously.

"I've seen inside your mind," he told her, "I've been inside your body. You will not be able to face them as Hermione Granger and simply enjoy their company ever again. You are tainted now. As I am. As the others who bear this mark are."

He nodded to the Dark Mark revealed on his arm where he'd rolled up his sleeves.

"You are no longer fit to sit in their self-righteous company and you know it. You will make excuses, at first, but you will be back here within an hour or two of leaving. I do not doubt it," Snape told her softly and Hermione realised with the tinkle of an hourglass that the potion was complete.

He stepped back from the cauldron slowly, ceasing his stirring and looking at her shrewdly.

"They're my friends," Hermione protested.

"Of course they are," he agreed, staring at her and making Hermione nervous, "But what might your friends say if they ever learned you've sucked my cock? If they ever learned you'd snogged Draco Malfoy, what would they do? Do you think they would look at you the same? If they knew what you'd been forced to endure, would they still be comfortable in your presence? You forget, Mina, that you are now a murderer."

"I could never forget that," Hermione argued coldly, her eyes hardening as she glared at him.

"Take these to the Order then," he shrugged waving his wand and causing ten beakers worth of potions to fill some large phials, "One for every remaining day preceding the full moon for Lupin and for Weasley. You will find they are all still at the Burrow."

He shrank the containers and levitated them into a small basket, which he handed to her.

"How do I get back here without you?" Hermione asked, accepting the basket carefully.

"Apparate to Spinner's End in Cokeworth. I will find you," he informed her, a cruel smile playing on his lips, "Oh and Mina?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him carefully.

"Make sure you are appropriately dressed. Draco will be here when you return and we will be expected for dinner at Malfoy Manor," Snape informed her and Hermione blanched. The idea of arriving at the burrow in some of the robes she'd purchased for this role made her feel stupid.

Gritting her teeth against his all too knowing air, Hermione snatched the basket of potions closer and spun on her heels. She stomped back up the stairs to her bedroom and stripped out of the jeans and jumper she was wearing. She bit her lip as she looked over the garments she had on hand before glancing out the window to see that it was a hot, sunny day in Spinner's End.

Sighing heavily, Hermione settled on the dress she'd brought that Snape had told her was too short. It had ruffles and was corseted, black and red with a little hood attached, despite the short length. Hermione felt a dark sense of humorousness roll through her as she donned it carefully, lacing up the corset and pulling the blood-red hood up over her hair. She coupled it with her heeled dragon hide boots and she very much felt like a traitor as she dressed herself as if she were going to be attending Malfoy Manor's dark halls instead of the warm and sunny Burrow.

Snape was waiting for her when she came back downstairs and she could tell the irony of her red-hooded attire was not lost on him as she clutched a basket full of goodies and intended to seek out a pair of werewolves.

"I put some soup on the stove," Hermione told him as she stopped to glare at him, "Can you keep an eye on it while I'm gone?"

He nodded his head, his eyes travelling over her carefully. Hermione wondered what had put him in such a foul mood. She hadn't seen him this acerbic and unkind since she'd been captured and it unnerved her. She suspected it might have to do with the fact that she'd taken his self-control from him in the shower and she rolled her eyes at herself over the very idea. He was too proud for his own good, and besides it wasn't as though he hadn't robbed her of her control, inflicting so much pleasure on her that she'd literally passed out.

"Send your patronus to me when you return," he informed her, handing her the green cloak she'd been wearing everywhere. Hermione shook her head, not wanting it. It was much too warm outside for it and she didn't want to arrive at the burrow sporting a Slytherin colour.

"I'll be seeing you then," Hermione told him nervously and Snape's smirk grew wider. She stalked past him and out the front door to his house. As soon as she was on the stoop Hermione turned on the spot and disapparated with a crack.

She landed on the outskirts of the Burrow's wards, striding across it carefully. She was still able to cross them, having been added to them by Molly and Arthur while she'd been staying there at the end of sixth year after she had wiped her parent's memories. The sight of the mish-mash structure made her heart clench inside her chest and Hermione felt ill as her arm began to throb. It felt heavy, as though the Dark magic she'd performed and the murder she'd committed were weighing down the Dark Mark on her forearm.

She crossed the wards carefully, her wand drawn and ready with a shield charm for the inevitable. As the wards rippled, alerting the inhabitants of the house to an intruder, Hermione spotted movement in the windows and she almost laughed when Harry, Fred, George and Remus came barrelling out of the house to investigate. Their wands were drawn and they all trained them on her warily.

"Hi Harry," Hermione said addressing her best friend first. She cringed at the different tone of her voice.

"Who in Merlin's balls are you?" George demanded, his eyes narrowed.

"Don't be thick, mate," Fred said, eyeing her a minute longer before lowering his wand a bit, "It's Hermione."

"Hermione?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing and Hermione lowered her hood carefully, revealing her face and hair better.

"It's me, Harry," she told him, "You saw me like this not four days ago!"

"Oi!" Ron's voice suddenly sounded and Hermione looked past the welcoming party to see him limping out of the house as fast as he could. He'd clearly heard them and was hurrying towards her, recognising her while she looked like this.

"Hold on, Ron," Remus caught him before he could meet her, "If you're Hermione, tell us what form your Boggart took in my third year final exam."

Hermione blushed a bit.

"Professor McGonagall telling me I'd failed every subject," Hermione answered truthfully.

"What did Hermione Granger get me for Christmas last year?" Harry wanted to know, still not looking convinced.

"A homework planner," Hermione told him, grinning, "And I seem to recall you throwing it at a wall in a rage sometime later that year when I guilt-tripped your into using it."

"Alright, she's definitely Hermione," Harry chuckled, lowering his wand. As soon as Remus released him, Ron limped to her as fast as he could and threw his arms around her. A small sob rocked through her when Ron pulled her into his arms, pressing her to him fiercely and kissing the top of her head.

She breathed in the familiar scent of him and tears welled in her eyes. She knew that freshly mown grass and spearmint toothpaste scent.

"You smell different," he informed her without releasing her, his nose by her ear and Hermione nodded.

"I know, I'm sorry," Hermione told him, "Snape gave me something to alter my personal scent for a few months so I couldn't be found out as an imposter by those who knew the scent of Hermione Granger."

"Who else would know what you smell like?" Harry asked, frowning as Ron pulled back a little bit.

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione told them honestly, "He's been a werewolf more than a year and according to Snape he used to track the three of us through the castle by scent sometimes. He already confronted me about it and I was nearly exposed when I still smelled a bit like Hermione instead of Mina."

"Malfoy's a werewolf?" Harry's mouth feel open in shock.

Hermione nodded.

"He was bitten last summer, just after being given the Dark mark, as punishment for Lucius's trouble with us at the Ministry. He's one of the two who transformed and bit Ron."

"The other was Greyback?" Remus wanted to know, pulling her into an embrace while Harry was still too shocked.

"Of course," Hermione nodded, "He can control the others into transforming without the full moon, though I don't know how. Yet."

"What are you doing here, Hermione?" Ron asked bluntly when the others had shared a hug with her too, making Hermione all the more uncomfortable. Snape was right. She felt unworthy of their company.

"Snape sent me with these," she hefted the basket carefully.

"You look like Little Red Riding Hood in those clothes carrying a basket," Harry informed her dryly, looking over her carefully.

Before Hermione could think better of it, a dark humour slipped through her again as she turned to Ron and said, "Want to be my Big Bad Wolf?"

She clapped her hand over her mouth in shock at what she'd just uttered. Ron looked bewildered and a little hurt, clearly not understanding the reference but taking offense at being called a wolf. Harry snorted in shock, his eyes widening behind his glasses and a bark of a laugh left Remus. The twins looked as baffled as Ron.

"Too soon, perhaps?" Harry suggested.

"You've been with Snape too long already, Hermione," Remus informed her, a little frown crossing his face as Hermione's cheeks turned crimson.

"It's a muggle fairy tale Ron," Harry explained when Ron simply stared at Hermione, "About a little girl wearing a bright red hood who takes picnic basket full of goodies into the woods on the way to help her sick grandmother – only she encounters a big bad wolf and ends up being eaten by him."

"You think I'll eat you?" Ron asked, aghast and confused now and Harry started to laugh when Hermione's cheeks darkened even further. It was clear that Ron meant it in the most literal sense, horrified that she thought he'd transform and feast on her flesh. Harry's reaction though, and the sultry tone she'd used to asked Ron, had the twins in a fit of stitches.

Hermione was mortified when she found herself all too vividly imagining Ron feasting on her pussy the way Snape had done on the shower floor.

"I don't think she meant it like _that_ , mate," Harry was still laughing, clapping Ron on the shoulder and Hermione blushed beet red at that. Remus was looking on as though he was mildly concerned by this side of her that had emerged. It was one Hermione had never allowed to show through before. Such naughty thoughts had been kept firmly to herself.

Ron's ears turned red when he realised the naughtier connotations of the innuendo and the twins positively howled with laughter. Hermione buried her face against Ron's chest, hiding from them all when he began to smirk just a little bit, his hands coming up to rest on her lower back intimately as he started to chuckle.

"Why don't we all go inside?" Remus suggested, "And you can tell us what Snape sent you here with, Hermione."

Hermione nodded. One arm gripping Ron tightly while she clutched the basket in the other. The twins were laughing too hard to follow immediately and Hermione let Ron lead her into the house slowly. She felt embarrassed over her words and like she didn't belong in their company anymore. She felt like she didn't fit there anymore and she hated Snape a little for what he'd done – what he'd let her do.

"Hermione is it really you?" Molly asked, bustling over when they were all in the kitchen.

"Hi Mrs Weasley," Hermione murmured, engulfed in a hug from the other woman. She was still mortified over her comment, unable to look Harry, Ron, Remus or the twins in the eye.

"How are you, dear? Let me look at you," Mrs Weasley said, leaning back and holding Hermione at arm's length, "Goodness me, isn't that man feeding you properly?"

"I'm alright, Mrs Weasley," Hermione told her, her cheeks darkening again with more inappropriate thoughts about the things Snape had been feeding her. She didn't want to admit to having been under the weather as a result of the Dark Mark ritual.

"These are for you and Ron," Hermione told Remus, turning to him and holding out the basket, "Snape just finished brewing them. Wolfsbane potion."

Remus looked shocked as he accepted the basket. Hermione pointed her wand inside, enlarging the jars carefully.

"What is he thinking sending you here with potions?" Remus asked, baffled, "Not that I'm not grateful for the potion or that I'm not happy to see you, Hermione, but it's not safe for you to be seen coming to visit us."

"I think he knows that," Hermione admitted, slipping into a chair beside Ron at the elongated table and looking around the room, "But I suspect he thought it might be good for me to see all of you… after…"

Hermione trailed off, her mind working to understand why Snape had sent her here. They were right. It was dangerous for her to be seen as Mina coming to the Burrow or fraternising with the Order.

"After what, Hermione?" Harry asked sharply, hearing her whispered final word and narrowing his eyes on her. Hermione's eyes filled with tears then, some of them spilling over and trickling down her cheeks. She clutched her arms a little closer to her body, not wanting them to see. Not wanting them to know about the mark on her skin. The Hermione Granger in her that loved and belonged with these people had been twisted and warped into Mina Graziana and it was clear now exactly what Snape meant to do by sending her here.

He wanted to shatter her hopes that everything could be alright when this was all over. He meant to foist into her face the full repercussions of what she'd had to do. Ron reached for her carefully and Hermione jerked away from him when she realised he was going for her arm.

"Hermione?" he asked softly, reaching for her again.

"Don't Ron," she whispered brokenly, "Don't do it. Not here. Not in this house."

She cradled the limb closer to her chest, feeling the throbbing ache of it through her entire body. She also caught the grim expressions of everyone at the table. She doubted Harry, Ron and the younger Order members knew what was involved in the Death Eater ritual but she got the feeling that the older generation knew. Their looks of masked horror were all too plain upon their faces.

"Oh Hermione," Molly sobbed softly, covering her face with her hands as she cried. Hermione looked around the table at Tonks, Remus, Arthur and the other Weasley's. Ginny was staring at her peculiarly, as though she couldn't quite believe her eyes.

"Why did Snape do this?" Harry wanted to know, glaring hatefully around the room, "Why couldn't he just bring you back here to us?"

"Would any of us have believed she wasn't under the Imperius curse?" Arthur asked quietly.

"He needed to get information to the Order and have all of you trust it again," Hermione disagreed quietly, "He needed to make me a martyr in the eyes of the Dark Lord, elevating his own esteem to better gain information and simultaneously dealing a supposed blow to you, Harry, whilst keeping me safe. There were other Death Eaters after me when I was caught. This way I am actually somewhat protected. As a muggleborn, a smart one, I'd have been persecuted almost as violently as you."

"We were doing alright on the run," Harry argued.

"No we weren't mate," Ron argued, "We weren't and you know it. We were barely surviving. Every day more deaths were happening. More murders. We were living on nothing but mushrooms and moving so often that we didn't sleep."

"We were doing better than having Hermione being a fucking Death Eater!" Harry snarled in return and everyone flinched as he speared the elephant in the room. Hermione sighed heavily, "She's a Death Eater, Ron. They did Merlin only knows what to her and they branded her with that foul insignia and now she'd a Merlin cursed Death Eater!"

"Oi," Ron shot out of his chair so fast that it toppled over backwards as he glared at Harry, "Don't you dare talk about Hermione like that and don't you dare curse in my mother's kitchen, Potter!"

"Enough!" Hermione commanded, as everyone around the table looked shocked by Harry's outburst and by Ron's defence of her. She wondered if any of them were aware of how they flinched at the entirely Snape-like tone in her voice as she silenced them all with a single word.

"Ronald, sit down. Now. Harry, you too," she snapped out getting slowly to her feet and glaring around the table at all of them until everyone sat back in their chairs and looked to her.

"I know none of you like this. I don't like it either. But it's done," she told them firmly, rolling back the sleeve of her dress and revealing the Dark Mark on her arm. Hermione frowned when she saw it was seeping blackness again and she paused to scoop up a napkin from the table, wiping away the ink.

"I am now branded a Death Eater," she announced, "My loyalty, of course, lies with all of you. But for the sake of the part I must play, I will have to make it seem like I don't know a single one of you beyond reputation. More to the point, my circumstances mean I have important information to pass on and forgive me, but I don't give a snitch about your angst right now Harry! They literally have an army. Hundreds of Death Eaters – and that's just those that are branded. That doesn't begin to cover the enormous pack Greyback has assembled or the other creatures and people that are amassing behind the Dark Lord."

Hermione glared around the room, watching the way everyone went pale beneath the perfect imitation of Snape's fierce and silencing sneer.

"They outnumber the Order four to one and they are intending to overthrow the Ministry within the month. They already have a firm grip on some of it, but more will be surrendered or taken by force very soon. We need to move quickly and we need to stop fighting over bollocks!" Hermione insisted, "They plan to install Snape as Headmaster of Hogwarts in the upcoming year – initiating an ordinance that all students of schooling age are bound by law to attend. They intend to make it illegal and punishable for you to be in hiding Harry. They also plan to install two new teachers at the school – Death Eaters both. Alecto and Amycus Carrow, who will be teaching a Dark Arts unit where students will learn how to torture each other and not how to defend themselves against Dark magic. And a class on all the pomp of pureblood society."

"All that rot?" Molly asked, making a horrified face.

"Yes," Hermione nodded, "More to the point we need to move quickly and we need to destroy the Horcruxes."

"Hermione!" Harry shouted, shocked by her outing of the secret.

"No, Harry, enough! This is not the time for secrecy amongst all of us here. Voldemort has made Horcruxes and they need to be destroyed. We need to get Slytherin's locket from Umbridge and destroy it. We also need to find the Cup and the Diadem. I believe the Diadem is at Hogwarts, so I will be searching for it while you lot are out here and I'm forced to return as Mina Graziana-Snape."

"And the Cup?" Harry wanted to know, crossing his arms in annoyance.

"I don't know where it is. I imagine that like Riddle's diary, it will have been given to his faithful servants to guard. Which makes me think Bellatrix and Rodolphus. They've been in Azkaban a long time, and living in Malfoy Manor since… it must be in their Gringotts vault," Hermione theorised.

"No one can break into a Gringotts vault Hermione," Bill warned her, frowning now.

"That's not necessarily true," Hermione argued, "It just hasn't been done in a long time. In our first year there was a breach of the vault where the Philosopher's stone was being kept. It can be done. Just by rather unsavoury means," she paused, her mind settling on a theory of how to go about discovering if the Cup was indeed in the vault. Rabastan's face floated inside her mind and she knew she had a goal of what she needed from him, "For the time being we focus on recovering the Locket and locating the Diadem. I'll find out if the Cup is even in their vault before we go trying to break into the most secure location in wizarding Britain."

"How are you going to…?" Ron asked, frowning up at her and Hermione glanced at him grimly.

"I'm rubbing shoulders with Death Eaters, Ron. Including Rabastan Lestrange. I'll get the information out of him," she told him quietly and she noted the way a quiet awkwardness settled over the table. She could tell from Remus's expression that he knew exactly how she meant to get the information from Rabastan. His jaw clenched tightly.

It occurred to Hermione that of everyone there at the table at that time, Remus was perhaps one of the very few with knowledge of just what happened amid the circle of Death Eaters. Hermione knew that during the first war Remus had been sent in undercover to live with Greyback's pack and to spy for the Order. She didn't doubt he had an idea of what it meant to be a Death Eater and Hermione felt ill as she realised he probably knew about how she would be forced to attend revels.

"Is it supposed to do that?" Ginny asked suddenly, leaning forwards and taking Hermione's arm across the table, smearing a little more of the black ink leaking from her Dark Mark. Hermione shuddered at the intrigued expression on Ginny's face and she wondered if the girl was in some way susceptible to magic performed by the Dark Lord. Harry was staring at it intently as well, though his lip curled with disgust.

"No," Hermione admitted, "I believe the fact that I'm muggleborn and loyal to the Order is wreaking havoc with the ritual. It's supposed to have settled itself nicely into the rip in my soul, but it's not binding properly."

She lifted her arm from Ginny's grip, wiping it with a napkin again and not catching the shared look of disturbance that passed between the Order members over her almost distracted and nonchalant discussion of the mark.

"So it's leaking back out of you?" Harry asked, looking horrified.

"I don't know," Hermione told him seriously, "But for my own sake, I really hope not. It doesn't bode well for my continued life expectancy and the idea of enduring what I had to suffer to get this wretched thing all over again is much too horrible to contemplate."

"Why are you dressed like that?" Ron asked, tugging at the hem of her dress carefully.

"I can hardly be seen in prejudice pureblood company wearing muggle clothes, Ron," Hermione sighed, "And I'm supposed to be attending Malfoy Manor for dinner… Actually I should probably be going."

"You just got here," Ron protested.

"Yes, I know," Hermione replied evenly, "But surely even someone with the emotional range of a teaspoon can feel the tension and the awkwardness that indicates I'm no longer entirely welcome here."

She saw the way the whole table flinched at how much she sounded like Snape.

"Hermione, you're always welcome here," Ron insisted, frowning heavily now.

Hermione almost laughed and she realised with a start that her evil wolf was feeding off the fear they all felt over her Dark Mark and her new role in this war.

"Nevertheless, I need to get going. I imagine – barring disaster – I'll be back next month with more Wolfsbane for the two of you," she told them all, gathering herself together. Everyone began to protest her claim that she wasn't welcome and Hermione felt tears prickle in her eyes.

"I need to talk to you three privately," she pointed to Harry, Ron and Ginny before stalking into the living room. Her three closest friends followed her.

"What do you need to talk to us about Hermione?" Ginny asked when they'd all entered the room behind her. Hermione noticed the way Harry and Ginny stood close together and she wondered if they were back together.

"I need you to not return to Hogwarts, Ginny," she addressed the younger girl first, "You won't be safe there. You're the daughter of known blood traitors, not to mention the girlfriend of Harry Potter, and the school will be crawling with Death Eaters. I can't do all I need to do to protect the student body with you there."

"You just said we'll be forced to return," Ginny pointed out, frowning, "I may not have a choice."

Hermione sighed, "Then I need you to hate me," she told the girl, "You can't look at me in shock or surprise for the things I will say and the things I will be doing. You can't try to drag me into alcoves or broom cupboards for secret chats or to cuss me out for what I'll be doing."

Ginny looked affronted and Hermione realised she was going to have problems with the younger girl at a later date.

"But I…" Ginny protested.

"Ginny, you don't know me," Hermione warned, her eyes flashing, "You don't know Mina Graziana-Snape. You don't get a say in what she does. You can disparage what I'll do loudly – in fact, the more distaste you show me at Hogwarts the better – but you need to understand that there are things I must do that Hermione Granger would never do. Things I can't do as Hermione. And some of those things are going to hurt you. They'll disgust you. You'll think terribly of me. I do them all for the sake of the role, but I imagine that by the time this war is through, you and I will no longer be friends when you experience how dreadful Mina can be…. That goes for all of you."

She swept her gaze to Harry and Ron.

"We'll always love you, Hermione," Ron argued, "I will."

"You say that now, Ron," Hermione told him softly, "But if I told you some of the things I've already had to do, you'd never speak to me again."

Ron froze at her words, his eyes widening.

"Ginny, I need to talk to Harry and Ron in private now," Hermione told the red-haired girl sternly rather than elaborating. Ginny narrowed her eyes in annoyance over being dismissed, but she stomped out of the room.

When she was gone Hermione cast a muffling charm, knowing Ginny would be in the hall outside, trying to eavesdrop.

"You can't take her hunting Horcruxes with you," Hermione told the boys sternly when it was done, "She's too susceptible to them after Riddle's diary. I also need you to infiltrate the Ministry with the help of as many of the Order as possible. Snape and I will be working in the coming month on creating havoc amongst the Death Eaters that are running things at the Ministry. You need to take advantage of it to get in and get that locket. If I can get it, I will and I'll destroy it, but if you haven't heard from me within the next three weeks, assume I've failed. So as we decided, use Polyjuice potion to get you in. Don't dally about, just grab it and get out. If you need to harm Death Eaters or people under their control, you cannot hesitate to do so."

"You killed someone, didn't you?" Harry asked her then, his shrewd eyes assessing her through the lenses of his spectacles.

"Yes," she admitted coldly, "I had to stand before the entire Death Eater court when they dragged a tortured and terrified muggleborn wizard into the room. He'd been tortured so long that he'd messed himself. He begged me for his life. And in front of the Dark Lord – with Tom Riddle lurking right over my left shoulder - and the entire parade of some two hundred branded Death Eaters I was expected not to show mercy or react. He pleaded with me not to kill him. He cried for his mother. And I had to kill him."

Ron blanched at the cold detachment in her voice and Harry continued to eye her with an angry expression.

"You're not the Hermione we know and love," Harry told her seriously.

"No. I'm not," she agreed,

"You're more like Snape now," Harry went on and Hermione narrowed his eyes at the insinuation that that was a bad thing.

"I should hope so," Hermione retorted, "Since he's managed to survive twenty years as a spy for the Order. The more like him I am, the more likely it is I'll survive this bloody war. Now, make sure you are finding and destroying Horcruxes quickly Harry. Basilisk venom will destroy them. You need to get McGonagall to get you into Hogwarts over the summer, before term recommences to get into the Chamber of Secrets and collect as many fangs as you can. Search the school for where the Diadem could be. Ask the Grey Lady about the Diadem too. It was her mother's."

"Why are you leaving so soon?" Ron demanded. "You're welcome here, Hermione. You know that."

"Not really," Hermione shook her head, fixing her attention on the boy she loved, "Not anymore. I belong with the Order and I would like to think that I am welcome among them all. But I can't belong here."

"Don't be ridiculous Hermione!" Ron growled at her and Hermione caught the flash of his wolf inside his eyes.

"I'm not being ridiculous. Harry knows I'm right. We can all smile and pretend that we're alright with the danger I'm in or with the things I have to do to keep suspicion off of me, but none of us are really alright with it."

"I just don't understand why you had to agree to be a spy," Harry shrugged, "Why did you have to fake your death? For Snape's sake?"

"Look Harry, I don't much like it either, but it's done. When the time comes and this potion wears off it will be plain for all to see that I'm still Hermione Granger – but the girl I have to be to make it that long might not be someone any of us can forgive. After all, I don't imagine you'll ever forgive me for murdering someone," Hermione told her best friend seriously.

"When this is over I will be a murderer too, Hermione," Harry pointed out, "I have to commit murder and kill Tom Riddle."

"Yes, but he's not an innocent man begging for his life," Hermione sighed, tipping her head back and fighting another freshet of tears.

"You don't know that he was innocent, Hermione," Harry argued with her softly, 'Do you know his name?"

"Charles Torball," Hermione told them honestly.

"We'll see if we can find anything out about him," Harry promised, "Look, Hermione I'm sorry for being a git in there. I don't like the way this all played out. You're a Death Eater, Ron's a werewolf and I got off scoot-free. It makes me angry."

Hermione smiled at him sadly.

"At least I can do some good in this role," Hermione offered, "I'll be able to tip you all off with the inner workings of the Death Eaters and their plans. What do you plan to do to avenge my death?"

"You'll see," Ron smiled grimly at that question, "It's all going down tomorrow."

Hermione nodded.

"Look, I really do need to go… I just wanted to warn you that the things I'm doing – the things you might hear about or see me doing…. They're not me. I mean, it's me, but it's not the Hermione you know and love."

"What else have you done that you think I won't speak to you ever again?" Ron asked.

Hermione bit her lip, glancing at Harry. She could see his curiosity in his eyes, but she could also tell he was worried about her answer.

"As a female Death Eater – one of only nine – I'm expected to attend revels thrown by the Dark Lord," she began delicately.

"Revels?" Ron asked, and Harry frowned.

"Like big twisted parties, Ron. Where the Death Eaters blow off steam and…. Well for want of a better word, fuck. My understanding is that a revel involves every perversion you can think of, all of it taking place for the enjoyment of the twisted bastards among the ranks."

"You have to fuck them?" Harry asked, aghast and Hermione nearly snorted at his foul language.

"Yes," Hermione admitted, "It's a requirement of the female Death Eaters to… service… the men."

"You're going to have sex with them?" Ron asked, his voice tight, "Have you already?"

"I've not been to a revel yet. They're not thrown often, but one is planned for next month with the overthrow of the Ministry…" Hermione bit her lip, "The thing I wanted to talk to you both about is that… actually. I, well I… As Mina – a recent immigrant – I must pretend to have no prejudices or hatred for any of the people I'm meeting."

"This is why you're going to Malfoy Manor tonight?" Harry asked, "You're shagging Malfoy.

"Not yet," Hermione shook her head, her cheeks turning red, "But I will be."

"NO!" Ron bellowed furiously, his breathing coming in sharp gasps.

"The person I have to be in this role is not someone I'm proud of Ron, nor is it something I'm particularly thrilled about. But there is nothing for it."

"You could try not going back! You could stay here with us where you'll be safe," Ron snarled, and Harry moved towards him cautiously as though fearful of what he might do.

"That's not an option and you know it. Look, I don't like upsetting you, but you needed to know. As Mina I have a part to play. And that part involves getting people like Draco Malfoy and Rabastan Lestrange onside with me until this war can be ended. I need pseudo-allies in there other than Snape. I also have to do something about the fact that I'm expected to attend revels with the scum of the Earth and smile prettily at the idea of being essentially gang-raped by them."

No!" Ron shouted again, shooting to his feet, his fists clenched tightly.

Hermione glanced to Harry for help but he looked too horrified by her words to be of any use. Sighing, Hermione looked away.

"Look, Ron, all I'm saying is that until this war is over, we can't be together. We couldn't anyway since I have to pretend I'm someone else in the face of my faked death. The point is, the things I have to do with my body to pull this off are reprehensible and unconscionable," Hermione tried to explain patiently, "It wouldn't be right for us to be a couple while I'm forced to do such things. I feel like enough of a traitor as it is without adding being a cheating girlfriend to my list of sins."

"In other words you're breaking up with me to fuck cunts like Malfoy?" Ron spat venomously and Hermione recoiled from him slightly. She felt the prickle of tears in her eyes.

"Unfortunately Ron, fucking cunts like Malfoy will be one of the least reprehensible things I'll have to do with my body in the coming months," Hermione retorted coldly, reaching for Mina inside her head, knowing she was going to need a strength that the goodness inside her didn't have, in order to break his heart.

"Meaning?" Ron snarled.

"Meaning I have to fuck all of them Ron," Hermione hissed at him, her eyes flashing with annoyance, "I already tried to kill Bellatrix Lestrange on my first arrival, whilst you were unconscious. At some stage the Dark Lord and his cronies will think it delightful to insist that I shag Rodolphus Lestrange – most likely while Bellatrix is forced to watch. You were witness to me wretching violently as Fenrir Greyback feasted on a human corpse believed to be me. At some stage they will make me fuck him too. And given the animosity between me and Bellatrix, Snape believes – being the perverted males they all are – that eventually I will also have to fuck Bellatrix Lestrange. People like Antonin Dolohov – the man who nearly killed me two years ago – will be vying for the chance to shag me. And I have to sit there and pretend I don't know how cruel and foul they all are."

Ron looked like he was going to have an aneurysm and Harry looked like he was going to vomit.

"To make matters worse they believe I am the illegitimate teenage daughter of Severus Snape – a man notorious for spiting others and getting away mostly unscathed. Do you truly imagine they aren't all going to do whatever they can to force themselves upon me as a means of getting back at Snape?" Hermione demanded, "Trust me, Ronald. One of the least abhorrent things I will be forced to do in the role of Mina will be dealing with Draco Malfoy."

"Then why the fuck are you going back there?" Ron demanded furiously, looking forlorn.

"What choice do I have?" Hermione spat, "If I don't then people will die. Don't you understand that? If I stay here and try being the same old Hermione, I put all of you in danger. I have this foul thing branded into my skin like a neon sign showing all who see it that I'm a Death Eater. I killed a man. I signed up with the reprehensible wretches of this world. If they find out I duped them – that I'm just a know-it-all mudblood who happens to be Harry Potter's best friend – what do you think they'll do to me? What do you think they'll do to you? They'll rain fury down on this house until there is nothing but rubble and pieces of bodies left."

"As opposed to what they'll do to you if you return? I think I'd prefer death than being fucked by the likes of them," Ron snapped, running his hand through his hair. Hermione could see the way it was shaking.

"Ron you've already been caught by them once," Hermione reminded him, "You've seen just a glimpse of what they're capable of. What do you imagine the likes of those foul people would do to someone like Ginny – Harry Potter's girlfriend – if they could track me here and find all of you? What about your mother? She's had seven children, Ron. They'll use her like a blow-up doll and sneer at how she must like being shagged so often otherwise she wouldn't have so many kids."

"Don't you dare talk about my mother like that!" Ron snarled, his eyes flashing at her.

"You know that's not what I think, you idiot!" Hermione snapped, "But these aren't nice people Ron. They're not decent. They're monsters. And if I stay here they will hunt us all down and do all that and much worse. Snape informs me that some of them don't much care about the gender of whomever they rape. Do you want that?"

Ron blanched at that and Harry dropped into the nearest chair, as though he was subconsciously trying to protect his bottom from her scenario. If it weren't so dire a conversation, Hermione might have giggled at his response.

"That's what they're going to do to you, Hermione," Ron informed her, "Do you want that? I can imagine the types of things they'll gleefully do to you."

"Of course it's not what I want, Ron," Hermine rolled her eyes, "But there is little choice left now. I will escape the worst of it when I return to Hogwarts, of course, but until September I am essentially at their mercy. Not that they're going to be allowed to just strap me to a bed and use me like a doormat, but there will be certain things expected of me…. My point is that in order to effectively be Mina Graziana-Snape, daughter of Severus Snape and recent initiate into the ranks of the Death Eaters, I have to do things, say things and endure things that will sicken all of us. And I have to do it without worrying about how you lot will be reacting to it and without it looking like you or your opinions of me matter."

Hermione took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

"And I have to go," she said when the silence stretched uncomfortably. Harry looked angry and forlorn. Ron looked like he might cry and he was trembling with rage that he was trying to control. Hermione knew it was costing them both something terrible to refrain from grabbing her and carting her upstairs to lock her up somewhere safe where no one could hurt her.

But Hermione knew that would be futile. If they tried all of them would be dead inside of a week. And as unthinkable as it might be and distasteful as some of the things in her role might prove, Hermione knew she could do more good by taking the ranks apart from the inside than she could as a fugitive of the Ministry and on the run from the Death Eaters.

Unable to think of any happy way to bid both boys goodbye, Hermione bit her lip, wiped a stray tear from her cheek and left the room. Ginny was loitering in the hall on the way to the kitchen.

"You broke up with him, didn't you?" she asked quietly, her voice mildly accusing.

"Would you prefer I undertake the task of fucking others for my survival while still dating your brother?" Hermione asked, horrified by her own cold tone and her own blunt and scathing question.

Ginny's eyes widened in shock at her demeanour and Hermione knew she really needed to go. She was going to lose control of herself if she stayed any longer. The urge to do right by her friends and to save them all – herself included – from this pain was strong. She knew if she didn't get out of there she was going to break down and beg them to hide her. To protect her. To forgive the things she had already done as Mina Graziana-Snape.

"Yeah," Hermione said scathingly, as she scanned Ginny's face, "I didn't think so…. I hope I don't see you at Hogwarts, Ginny. You aren't going to like the person I'll be by then."

Squeezing her friend's arm lightly, Hermione continued on through the house and into the kitchen. Inside, many of the adults were sitting quietly and looking worried. Hermione didn't blame them.

"If I can, I will be back with more potion for you next month," Hermione told Remus, focusing her attention on the man and feeling unable to face the other Order members sitting in the kitchen, "If I can't come in person, I'll owl them. If you don't hear from me or Snape by next month's full moon, assume the worst."

"Hermione, wait…." Remus said, getting to his feet and moving towards her as though he meant to stop her.

"Hermione Granger is dead, Remus," Hermione told him in the same cold tone she'd used when speaking to Ginny, "I can't do what I have to do now while being Hermione Granger… Don't tell anyone outside of this group that Mina Graziana and Hermione Granger are one and the same. If the information gets into the wrong hands, I'll be even more literally screwed than I already am."

Mrs Weasley loosed a soft wail of horror and despair at her words and Hermione felt her heart squeeze painfully to know she was the cause of such anguish.

"It also won't do to have people – namely my teachers at Hogwarts – reacting to me as though I'm still Hermione Granger and not Mina. Keep it quiet."

"And if someone from the Order who doesn't know you identity tries to kill you as Mina?" Remus asked, his eyes narrowed on the idea.

"I'd rather go at the hands of one of the Order than the scum I'm climbing into bed with," Hermione told him honestly.

She made for the door before she could break down, hurrying outside quickly. Inside the house she heard more arguing break out and she could hear the forlorn and rage-filled howl that Ron had begun to emit.

"Wait!" someone shouted from behind her – Hermione suspected it was Harry – but she didn't dare stop. Instead she practically sprinted to edge of the wards before she turned on the spot and disapparated.


	11. Chapter 11: Occlumination

**A/N: Oh my gosh, you guys! I cleared 120k words on this through the week. It's coming out juicy and delicious and I can't wait to share it with you! Thanks for all the marvellous reviews. I'm so pleased so many of you are enjoying my work. No warnings for this chapter really, but you'll all be pleased to know that we'll finally be seeing some more Draco. A delectable 9k morsel just for you.**

 **Much love! xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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 **Chapter 11: Occlumination**

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 _... "I'll sleep better when the smoke clears inside my head,_

 _And I can listen when the screaming doesn't repeat everything I've said._

 _All that remains is me and who I am, at the end of the day._

 _And this happens everyday"..._

- **Everyday (Toby Lightman)**

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She landed in Spinner's End with a dull pop and Hermione looked up at the sky as she realised it had begun to rain. Sighing heavily she drew out her wand and cast her Patronus, sending it to Snape to let him know she'd returned. Tears prickled behind her eyes as she moved across the short distance to the little park she'd landed in. The weather had driven all the muggles that inhabited the area indoors and so Hermione had the place to herself.

Dropping into the swing, she pushed gently from the ground, gripping the chains tightly as she swayed back and forth. It took everything she had not to break down and cry as she had done when she'd awoken with the Dark Mark branded into her arm. The feeling of being something unsavoury whilst in the presence of her friends and loved ones was painful. She felt… dirty. She felt as though she didn't at all belong in their company anymore and she hated herself a little for it.

She hated herself because while she certainly no longer felt worthy among them – a murderer among the righteous; a wolf among the lambs – Hermione had also felt a little as though she didn't belong with them because they didn't understand. In some ways her friends had seemed a little naïve. She supposed she had been too, before all this. She had barely even scratched the surface of the life of Darkness and already she felt as though they were inept and ignorant.

Not merely of the things she had done, but of the way things were in such a world. People like Harry and Ron – so unwaveringly Gryffindor and good – could never understand the perspective of a ruthless Slytherin. Hermione hadn't believed she could either, but it seemed she had been wrong. She understood what it was to put self-preservation and a bigger picture before the lives of a few. She understood the concept of doing bad things for good reasons. The road to hell was indeed paved with good intentions, but it had never occurred to her that others travellers on that road might intrigue and beguile her.

Had she been told even a week ago that she would have an in-depth understanding of Severus Snape and the crimes he had committed – indeed, of the personality he exhibited – she'd have shipped the teller off to St. Mungo's Spell Damage department. Of course, had someone told her last week that she'd have had sex with Professor Snape or snogged Draco Malfoy, she'd have laughed them out of the room.

Hermione supposed that was why she found her friends naïve. They could never even comprehend the idea of her shagging Snape to prepare herself for what she would endure at the upcoming revel. They would never consider the idea of sullying themselves with the enemy to save themselves from pain and humiliation later. The perceived humiliation of such a thing at the time would far outweigh their ability to even comprehend how anything could be worse at a later date.

Not that she blamed them really. It was hardly her wish that they trade places or that they be forced to stoop as low as she had. She supposed it was hypocritical of her to be mildly put out with them for their reactions to things they didn't even know she'd done. Were their places traded – were it Ron in her position – Hermione knew she would be furious and heartbroken over the idea of him breaking up with her to shag the enemy. Even for self-preservation.

Hermione felt a singular tear trickle from the corner of her eye and down her cheek as she swung herself a little harder, quickly growing addicted to the feel of the swing moving. She'd never much liked flying, but Hermione blamed that on the notion that she wasn't very good with brooms and on the fact that the things she had flown on in the past had been unpredictable. The swing, however, was as predictable as could be. It swung backwards and forwards, rising higher if she swung harder.

Before she could consciously think about what she was doing, Hermione found herself swinging higher and faster, the chains squeaking in protest, the rain smacking against her rapidly swinging body. She tipped her head back, throwing her hood off her head and letting the raindrops patter down upon her face to hide the sight of the tears she shed for the loss of her innocence, the loss of her belonging with the people she loved. She swung higher still, the swing threatening to flip all the way up and over the frame.

When she faced forwards again, Hermione's eyes were met with the sight of a smirking Draco Malfoy and behind him, Severus Snape wearing a knowing expression as he assessed her current mood with a glance. Hermione didn't quite know what to make of the fact that the sight of them made her feel inexplicably better. It really ought not to, but it did. Snape because he knew the entire truth and understood everything she was going through and had done what he could to help her.

She didn't really know why she felt better at the sight of Draco Malfoy. She hadn't before this past week of nuttiness. In the past the idea of encountering Malfoy was unpleasant at best. She supposed it must be the isolation she was feeling to know that so few people knew and understood what she was going through. Snape knew best, but Malfoy was a close second. He might not know the truth of her identity, but he knew that she'd been fearful of being branded – as he had. And that she'd had no say in the matter – as he had. And even that if it were at all possible, neither of them would be anywhere near the Dark Lord and his psychotic cause.

She swung back even harder on the swing before flinging herself forwards hard. Malfoy seemed to realise what she was about to do before Snape did and he braced just in time for Hermione to hurl herself from the swing, arcing through the air towards him. He caught her easily enough thanks to his heightened lycanthropic strength, though he staggered back a few steps at her momentum as she collided solidly with his chest. She heard the breath huff out of his lungs in a rush and she saw the way the yellow of the wolf flashed inside his eyes.

"Feeling better?" Snape asked her as Malfoy set her down on her feet, his hands still gripping her waist with an easy familiarity. The same one she'd discovered whilst touching him the last time she'd seen him away from the other Death Eaters. She would have to look into it. In the past he'd never made her feel anything other than angry, suspicious or impatient. It seemed strange to her that actually touching him seemed to make her feel strangely calm.

She realised at a glance that Snape must have told Malfoy she'd taken a walk because she was feeling miserable about being branded and possibly over the grief of supposedly losing her mother.

"Not really," Hermione admitted, holding Snape's gaze for a long minute and conveying with her eyes that it hadn't gone as well as she had hoped, though about as well as he might have predicted. He nodded sharply.

"What are you doing here?" she asked Malfoy, pretending ignorance of the fact that Snape had told her he was going to be coming by.

"Participating in illegal activities," he informed her, smirking a little bit as she turned her attention to him, her arms looped around the back of his neck beginning to play with the damp hair at the nape of his neck.

"You're not allowed Wolfsbane, are you?" she asked knowingly, "The Dark Lord prefers to further punish your father by making you suffer the full, raving effects of the curse every full moon."

"Indeed," Malfoy nodded, a dark look crossing his face at the reminder. Hermione wondered what it would take to turn him on Voldemort. Not very much, she'd wager. She was going to find out. She would push him to it. And simultaneously save him from the darkness that threatened to consume him. She didn't know why she wanted to. Other than that he was familiar. She'd shared a classroom with him for six years and as vile as he had been at times, he was still a human being with thoughts and feelings. One who didn't deserve to be kicked and raped and brutalised on command of the Dark Lord, only to then be tormented for being made into a werewolf on top of all that.

Besides, she had a soft spot for werewolves. She'd always liked Remus, and Ron was a werewolf now as well. It would be beneficial to Hermione to learn how to tolerate having a werewolf for a lover. That is, should Ron ever forgive her for what she would be doing and what she had already done.

Hermione felt a terrible twist inside herself as she doubted that ever occurring.

"Won't you both get into trouble for defying such orders?" Hermione asked suspiciously, looking between Malfoy and Snape carefully, concerned that they would be caught and punished for breaking a mandate Voldemort had given.

"Not if I still make it seem like I'm suffering the full effects at the full moon," Malfoy shrugged his shoulders, "It's much easier to act like a slavering monster when I can choose to cease doing so at any given moment if I deem it necessary. Saves me from suffering more regrets after a full moon when I wake up human again and the memories come rushing back."

"And you get away with taking the potion how?" Hermione wanted to know, "Surely Greyback can smell the effects? Or perhaps people grow suspicious of why you would be visiting with Severus?"

"He's my godfather," Draco told her, glancing over at Snape who was watching them with an unreadable expression on his face. Or mostly unreadable, since Hermione could tell that he was baffled by their easy conversing and by Hermione's ability to act as though she hadn't spent six and half years loathing Draco.

"Were you planning to spend the entire afternoon out in the rain?" Snape asked then, seeming bored and annoyed as the rain poured down on all three of them.

"No," Hermione admitted, "I suppose we should go back inside."

Snape nodded, spinning on his heels and stalking away back across the park and down the street. Hermione glanced up at Malfoy when he made no move to follow after Snape. He was watching her with an intrigued gleam in his grey eyes and Hermione felt a nervous twist inside her stomach when she suddenly wondered if he could smell Harry, Ron and the other Order Members on her clothing. She'd hugged them all when she'd arrived at the Burrow.

Panicking and seeking a way to avoid having him notice it any more than he already might have, Hermione went up on her toes and playfully nipped his pointed chin. His eyes flashed gold at her for a moment before he ducked his head and kissed her soundly on the lips. Hermione felt his arms circle her waist, securing her body against his as he snogged her hotly.

Hermione let herself sigh into the kiss. She might've spent time shagging Severus since she'd last seen Draco, but Severus didn't kiss on the mouth. She'd always enjoyed snogging. It just felt so intimate and so nice. And Draco was rather good at it. Tangling her tongue around his hungrily, Hermione held tighter to him, sinking into the feel of his hungry mouth on hers.

When they came up for air, Draco laid his forehead lightly against hers, his warm minty-fresh breath ghosting over her cold face.

"You alright?" he asked quietly and Hermione felt something inside her twist when she realised he was asking about far more than his kiss. She'd never have believed it had she not been living it in that very moment, but Draco Malfoy was being nice and showing concern for the wellbeing of another. She'd never have thought it possible. The part of her that had been his rival for six years melted just a little bit.

"Do I have any choice but to be?" Hermione asked softly.

"You do when you're alone with me," he whispered, opening his eyes to peer directly into her own sympathetically. She could see in that one look that he completely understood where she was coming from and what she meant. That he knew the pain and the fear and the utter devastation of being branded a Death Eater and putting on a show about being happy for it.

Hermione felt a sob catch in the back of her throat at his words and she realised she was far more emotionally unstable than she'd hoped to be. She was lonely and sad and she missed her friends terribly even though she'd only just left their company. She missed the warmth and familiarity they'd always provided and she was mourning the loss of the easy comfort she'd found in being with them as her family.

"I…" she choked and she was shocked when Draco leaned away long enough to press a tender kiss to her forehead, drawing her more fully into his embrace as he tucked her head beneath his chin.

Another tear trickled from Hermione's eyes at his kindness and at the gaping hole she felt inside her heart where her friends should be. She wondered if this was how Draco had felt when he'd been infected with Lycanthropy. All of his pureblood hopes and dreams ripped away. All of his friends thinking horrible things of half-breeds – as they considered werewolves to be. Had he felt as alone and as utterly broken as she did?

He held her as her body trembled with the effort it took not to cry and Hermione could see beyond them, over by one of the buildings down the street, that Snape was leaning against a wall and waiting for them. He didn't look impatient or annoyed. In fact, when Hermione met his gaze she saw the tiniest flicker of sympathy, clearly realising that he'd shattered a part of her by sending her to her friends when she was so different now from the girl she'd been with them.

Hermione wondered if he regretted it. She doubted it. He might pity her over the loss, but she could tell it had been done for her own good in the larger scheme of things. After all, what point was there now in holding back from doing certain things or in recoiling from certain ideas when her friends would already think the worst of her?

"You did better than I did," Draco murmured against the top of her head as Hermione laid her head on his chest, listening to the words rumble there when he spoke, "When I was branded – even with the potion Severus gave me to confuse the pain – I still screamed."

"I didn't?" Hermione asked, frowning. She had wondered if she might have at some stage. She'd lost touch with reality before she'd blacked out from the excruciating pleasure and pain she'd endured for her Dark Mark.

"No," Draco told her quietly, "Though you moaned a bit with the pleasure. Everyone else was muttering about it afterwards – they think you're something special if you can endure the ritual by orgasming."

Hermione smiled a little at that, feeling his hands smoothing up and down the length of her back comfortingly. She was beyond shocked at his ability to be so nice to anyone, and even more so at his willingness to do so with her. Not that she was complaining. If he was willing to be nice to her and care for her in any way, it would make her task of allying him to her that much easier.

"Unfortunately that is only achievable with the aid of highly illegal potions," Hermione told him softly, "But if they think better of me for it, they might be less willing to use the Cruciatus curse on me themselves."

"Or more likely to try it and see if they can make you orgasm again," Malfoy replied darkly.

"I can think of ways much more exciting to achieve _that_ goal," she murmured, stroking her hands down his back to clutch at him tighter.

"Any time you want to achieve that goal, let me know," he replied wickedly and Hermione pulled back from him to smirk into his face.

"Are you busy now?" she replied in a sultry purr, enjoying the way his eyes flashed to wolf again and a wide smirk spread across his face.

"We're supposed to go to dinner with my family at the Manor," he told her, "And I still have to take my potion. But after that, I'm all yours."

Hermione returned his smirk then, nodding her head.

"We'd better follow him before he stomps back over here and tries to make more playdates for us," Hermione nodded in Snape's direction and Malfoy glanced that way.

He looped her arm through his and escorted her across the park towards Snape, who pushed away from the wall when he saw them coming, intent on leading them.

"Think he'll slip me poison for manhandling his daughter?" Malfoy asked, nodding at Snape's retreating back.

"Not unless I weren't choosing to allow it," Hermione told him, smirking, "The Dark Lord gave permission for me to only choose the minimum number of partners for the revel. And gave Severus permission to express his displeasure with any who tried anything with me without my acquiescence."

"As though you wouldn't maim them yourself?" Draco asked her and Hermione bounced one eyebrow at him happily at his belief that she wouldn't let anyone grope her unless she wanted them to.

"Tell me about you, Draco Malfoy," Hermione said as they walked through the rain, following Snape through the dreary streets of Spinner's End towards his house.

"What do you want to know?" he asked carefully, glancing at her.

"Everything," Hermione smiled widely at him, "I mean, I know what you are. Pureblood. A Malfoy. A Werewolf. A Death Eater. Now tell me who you are. What do you do for fun?"

"I don't have fun," he replied, frowning a little as though the idea bothered him, "At least, not anymore… I used to play Quidditch for fun, though I haven't since fifth year."

"What else?" she asked, "Do you read? Are you a chess player?"

"Yes, to both," he answered, "What about you?"

"I don't like flying very much," Hermione told him, slipping into the role of Mina and cushioning her lies in the truth, "I do like reading, and I find chess rather barbaric at times, but I enjoy the strategy of it. I like brewing potions in my free time, and inventing spells."

"I've never invented any spells," Malfoy admitted, "Do you have a favourite flower?"

"Moon lilies," Hermione lied. Her favourite flowers were actually daisies. But that was a preference belonging to Hermione and not to Mina. Since she smelled like moon lilies she chose them to be her favourite.

"You smell like moon lilies," Malfoy informed her, "It's intoxicating to werewolves, you know?"

"I did know that, yes," she nodded,

"Did you single me out as an ally on purpose because I'm a werewolf?" he asked, stopping suddenly and glancing at her.

"Not at all," Hermione told him, "Your status as a wizard infected with lycanthropy means very little to me Draco. I chose you as an ally because you're my father's godson, and because you were nice to me when you didn't have to be. Did you single me out as an ally because of how I smell?"

He shook his head, not looking very convinced by her lie about not caring he was a werewolf. It was a lie because she did care, just not in the way he thought she would. She cared about his lycanthropy because she pitied those afflicted with the curse and understood it better than most. She'd researched it extensively and she understood many of the repercussions of the curse. She had singled him out as an ally for her in this mess because he was Draco Malfoy and because she'd been to school with him for six years. And also because it had become clear to her very quickly that he would be easy to turn on the Dark Lord's cause and he was close enough to her in age to be a suitable friend.

"Not on purpose," he shrugged, "When I escorted you out of the Manor the other night I assumed you to be a disguised Hermione Granger. After learning that you're not, I have simply come to enjoy you."

"You've barely spent any time with me," Hermione protested.

"True, but I enjoy you nonetheless. You have parts of you that are as dark as some of those in me and we have many other things in common – not the least of which being that we were branded as Death Eaters young to better keep our fathers in line. That, and you kiss like the devil," Malfoy smirked at her, "Do you really not care at all that I'm a werewolf? I've already bitten you more than once as a human, and tried as a wolf."

"I don't place stock in someone based on what they are as a result of events outside of their control, Draco," Hermione told him honestly, "I only value how it is they react to those circumstances and what they do with the hand they are dealt."

He eyed her for a long moment in silence before leading her up the path to Snape's house and inside – the wards rippling over the pair of them while Snape waited, holding the door open for them.

"Go and put some dry clothes on while I give Draco his potion, Mina," Snape instructed, waving her towards the stairs, "You can't wear something that short to a formal dinner party."

"Si, Papa," Hermione murmured, releasing Malfoy's arm and realising Snape was doing his best to ensure any lingering scent of her friends wouldn't be picked up by Draco's sensitive nose by insisting she change.

Hermione couldn't say she minded. She didn't much like being wet now that she was out of the rain and feeling slightly better. Hurrying up the stairs and into her room, Hermione stripped out of the hooded dress in favour of something nicer. Recalling the discussion she'd had with Malfoy about shagging after dinner, Hermione made sure to put on some nice underwear – locating some black lacy knickers and a matching bra. She would need to buy more of such things if she was going to be shagging Malfoy on a regular basis. It wouldn't do to let people catch her in the dull cotton knickers that she usually wore as Hermione.

Mina Graziana would never be caught in such things. More importantly, the lacy knickers made her feel naughtier – better ensuring she remained firmly in the personality of Mina whilst wearing them. When she was wearing them, Hermione turned back towards the closet across the room where she was keeping her newest dresses and robes, intent on finding something appropriate to wear to dinner with the Malfoys. Something that would be conservative but sexy – since she expected the Lestrange brothers and possibly Bellatrix would also be dining with them.

She paused on her way across the room when she noticed Draco leaning in the doorway sipping from a steaming goblet. He watched her over the rim and Hermione raised her eyebrows at him, wondering how long he'd been there. For a long moment she felt self-conscious beneath his hungry gaze, even with the little whispered tendrils of excitement that coursed through her when she noticed his approval.

Stopping in the middle of the room, Hermione tamped down the urge to cover herself and hide from his gaze, recalling what Snape had taught her about not appearing vulnerable and nervous.

"Enjoying the view?" she asked Malfoy wickedly, propping her hands on her bare hips. She really hoped that if he'd seen her changing into the sexy lingerie from the cotton things she'd been wearing, that he thought it was because they'd been damp from the rain.

"Immensely," Malfoy purred, "Don't mind me, go about your business. Watching you distracts from the awful taste of this."

He lifted the steaming goblet a little and Hermione smiled sympathetically when he made a face at the flavour as he took another swig from the goblet.

"Is it that bad?" she asked him, having never tried it.

"It's worse," he muttered and Hermione stalked towards him slowly across the room until she was standing in front of him.

"If your Alpha can make you transform at will without the full moon, why do you need to take this?" she asked him as she took the goblet from his hand and brought it to her lips. She'd never tasted Wolfsbane before. Hermione regretted doing so immediately when the flavour crossed her tongue. It tasted the way she imagine week-old road-kill might taste it she were to stew it in cat urine whilst regularly adding dollops of arsenic.

"Told you it was foul," he smirked when she handed it back to him and coughed at the disgusting taste, "And I still have to take it before the full moon because while Greyback can control the rest of us into the change outside of the lunar cycle, the full moon still overthrows even him."

Hermione nodded slowly, watching as he took another big gulp of the potion, clearly disgusted by the flavour but used to having to take it. He must be, Hermione decided, and he must be really dedicated to retaining his humanity at each full moon because there was no way she would ever willingly taste the wretched potion again. Biting her lip as she watched him, Hermione decided that if he could tolerate the flavour for the sake of staying human inside his own mind, the least she could do was help distract him from the taste.

"Any suggestions on what to wear to dinner with your family?" she asked him, sashaying her hips a little as she walked away from him and into the room. She could practically feel his gaze like a hot caress as it ravaged her.

"Um…" he said and Hermione smirked at the idea of leaving him speechless.

She went back to searching through her closet, toying with the fabric of each gown carefully until she felt Malfoy come up behind her. He'd clearly finished his potion, having set the goblet down over on her chest of drawers by the door. Hermione bit her lip on a sigh of contentment when she felt his hands sliding over her hips and across her taut stomach.

"I think it would be a crime to cover any of this," he purred in her ear before nibbling the fleshy lobe lightly. Goose-pimples prickled over her skin unbidden at the sensation, despite Snape's instruction to react only when she chose to.

Hermione bit her lip at the very idea of shagging Malfoy. She knew she was going to, and that it would be beneficial to her plans, but there was still a small part of her lamenting the idea of doing so.

"Hold it," Snape's voice came from the doorway and Hermione looked over towards him. She blinked at him in surprise to see him interrupting, though she could tell it had nothing to do with being possessive of her or not wanting her to sleep with Malfoy.

"Papa?" she asked, wondering if Malfoy thought it odd that she didn't recoil beneath Snape's gaze despite only being clad in her underwear.

"You two are both due for an Occlumency lesson before we attend dinner," Snape drawled at them, "And I don't want to be digging around in those heads when you have nothing but raging teenage hormones ruling there."

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek as she realised how awkward that would be. The idea of him poking around in her head again made her nervous. The idea of doing so after having shagged Draco made her feel icky on his behalf.

"You have terrible timing," she lied, affecting mild annoyance over the interruption even as she peeled Malfoy's hands from her hips and reached for one of the dresses in her closet – a pretty velvet green one with a tight corset that showed off her cleavage nicely and sleeves that fell to her elbows.

She dressed in it hurriedly while Snape waited.

"Me first?" Hermione asked, realising that must be the case since Snape could have started with Draco while she'd been dressing.

Snape nodded wordlessly as he entered the room more fully. Hermione watched him stalk towards her like a panther while Draco moved over to sit on the end of her bed to watch. He'd clearly used a drying charm on his own damp clothing. When Snape came closer still, rather than stopping and taking out his wand, Hermione realised he meant to use legilimency on her the same way he'd done the first time. She wondered what Malfoy would think of the idea even as Snape moved close enough to run caressing fingers along the length of her jaw, tipping her head back enough that she was forced to hold his gaze.

He smirked wickedly at her for just a moment and Hermione rushed to throw up her mental barriers.

"Legilimens," he purred, his breath caressing her face.

Hermione felt subtle whispers of attempted intrusion from him as he encountered her mental wards, resorting again to the mirrors inside her mind to try and reflect things back at him. She thought about reflective things. Mirrors. Still pools of water. Anything but allowing him access to her innermost thoughts and emotions.

It worked for all of five minutes and Hermione wondered what it must look like to Malfoy – supposed father and daughter standing so close together, his finger trailing the length of her jaw lightly as he peered deep inside her eyes and tried to pry into her mind. Her head had begun to ache with the effort it took to repel his attempts at gaining entry. And her attempts of keeping him out failed when he skimmed the pad of his thumb lightly across her bottom lip, instantly distracting her and causing her to recall the other intimate acts she'd shared with him.

Snape penetrated her mind just in time to watch her reliving the memory of him penetrating her pussy. A flurry of memories of shagging him played inside her mind with him as a spectator. Hermione felt her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment even as she tried to throw him back out of her mind. Especially when the topic of the memories continued through the things she'd done with Snape before switching to the times she'd been intimate with Ron.

She wondered as she heard him sneering inside her mind, if he wouldn't have rathered she shag Draco and be thinking about that instead. Memory of shagging Ron turned her attention to the time she'd spent with him and Snape snorted in amusement as he watched her ask Ron if he wanted to be her big bad wolf. The following scene of the time she'd spent at the Burrow played through and Hermione knew she'd failed.

The sharp, jarring pain as she hit the bedroom floor on her knees snapped her out of it, hurling Snape from her mind and she felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes when she found herself on her knees before him. His fingers still caressed her jaw.

"Up," he commanded, his hand sliding the back of her neck and under the hair at her nape before he used the grip to urge her back to her feet.

"Again," he warned, "Do better this time."

Hermione nodded, grateful when he allowed her the chance to take a deep, calming breath before he invaded her mind again. She cleared her mind completely pushing away her disappointment with herself for the way she'd failed and her annoyance with him for besting her. She pushed away her anguish over the loss of comfort from her friends and even her curiosity about Malfoy and the other Death Eaters.

She focused her mind only on the stillness of a tranquil pool, breathing evenly. When she nodded her head at Snape and lifted her gaze back to his own black-eyed stare, she felt him try to dive into her mind again. This time when he tried the same tactic, his thumb sliding along her lower lip, nothing happened.

She could feel him trying to push certain thoughts and ideas into her mind, trying to spark some kind of response from her. He tried an array of things, from notions of childhood birthday parties to biggest fears and deepest secrets. The one about fears nearly got her and she knew he caught a flash of an image that involved having her magic ripped away from her and her whole world blown apart. She clenched her jaw slightly and pushed it away, sighing out a slow and controlled breath, returning all thoughts to the tranquil pool.

Ten minutes later when Snape didn't manage to penetrate her mind but for a few more brief flashes of things, he withdrew from her mind. Hermione swayed precariously, feeling light-headed and dizzy. Her head throbbed terribly from the effort it had taken to keep him out. Hermione wondered who in the room was more shocked when he slipped his hand around to the back of her neck again before pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, right between her eyes.

She knew it was his silent way of expressing his praise and approval of what she'd done. She was also grateful when the action somehow relieved some of the pain in her head.

"Sit down," he told her, "Draco, it's your turn."

Hermione did as she was told, tottering slightly on her feet as she stumbled backwards towards the bed. She was grateful when she felt Malfoy catch her before she could fall down, his arms coming around her waist from behind. She blinked against the pain in her head when Malfoy nuzzled into the side of her neck, peppering kisses there that did wonderful things to distract her from her pain.

When he guided her backwards further before stepping out from behind her and allowing her to sit, Hermione flopped back on the end of her bed, throwing her arm over her eyes.

"You're not going to do it to me like that are you, Severus?" she heard Malfoy ask in a slow drawl.

Hermione lifted her arm again to watch Snape smirk at the blonde boy. Rather than standing opposite him Snape was standing as close to Draco as he'd done to Hermione. And Hermione could tell it slightly unnerved Draco to be so close to the man.

"I will if you get smart with me again," Snape warned him with a cruel smile of his own before stepping back two paces and suddenly invading Malfoy's mind.

Hermione watched with interest as the two of them grappled for control while Snape tried to penetrate Draco's mind. Several minutes of silent staring later Draco began to pant, a low growl rumbling in his throat. He staggered back a step when Snape pulled out of his mind.

"Don't make me poison you, Draco. I might have to tolerate a certain impropriety thanks to her being made a Death Eater, but she's still my daughter," Snape warned and Hermione giggled when she realised that Draco must've been imagining naughty things about her for Snape to react that way.

"Imagining me naked Draco?" she asked in a sultry voice from behind him.

Malfoy shot her a look over his shoulder, smirking just a bit.

"Worse," he winked at her before turning back to Snape quickly, clearly concerned for his health when Snape hissed in annoyance.

"Legilimens!" Snape spat, his eyes narrowing on his godson and Hermione marvelled at his ability to act like a protective father when she meant so little to him and wasn't actually related to him.

This time Draco began to snarl almost immediately, his hand curling into fists at his sides and his breath growing ragged. When he sprouted claws from his nail beds and took a threatening step towards Snape, Hermione wondered what the man was tormenting him with. The feral snarl and his reaction suggested it was something that greatly upset Draco.

"Fuck you, Snape," Draco snarled when Snape withdrew from his head again.

"Don't let me inside your mind to catch you thinking about her like that again and I won't do it," Snape retorted in a cold voice, "Now put your claws away. You can't keep me out with them. Legilimens!"

Hermione watched with intrigue as Snape worked Draco over mercilessly. She realised that he'd been very gentle with her when he'd tested her barriers. Her head still ached from his attempted invasion.

"Clear you mind Draco," Snape hissed a few minutes later and Hermione blinked to suddenly find Snape being clutched by his robes, lifted a few inches off the ground as Malfoy snarled into his face.

When Snape's eyes flickered to her face – entirely devoid of any fear over the irate werewolf's reaction – Hermione realised this display was for her. A demonstration of what Draco was capable of if he lost his temper. Draco was growling furiously in Snape's face and when he suddenly dropped Snape again – leaving claw shaped tears in Snape's robes – before stalking away from the man and trying to regain his self-control, Hermione caught sight of vicious fangs inside his mouth. He didn't look at her as he paced, huffing out several breaths as he tried to calm himself down.

"Draco," Snape warned, his voice cold and deadly, suggesting he was losing patience and making Hermione think that they were far closer than she'd realised. It was clear Draco had been studying Occlumency for longer, and that such a lapse in self-control was rare. Snape was unforgiving and impatient with his student and Hermione watched both of them, intrigued by the exchange.

When Malfoy continued to growl under his breath, a thought occurred to her. She didn't know what kinds of memories Snape had dug up and used against Malfoy inside his own mind, but from Malfoy's reaction they must have been terribly unpleasant. Their exchanged words also made her think they might pertain to some of what Malfoy had endured at the revel he'd been forced to attend. The idea that he'd probably been raped by some of their brethren unsettled Hermione horribly and she felt bad for him that Snape had used it on him to show her how easily to anger and how deadly Malfoy could be when pushed.

Getting carefully to her feet despite her aching head, Hermione widened her eyes at Snape, silently conveying that he was being a tyrant. He narrowed his own eyes on her and Hermione knew he would lecture her later for her interference.

"Draco," she whispered, moving to intercept the werewolf's pacing. His clawed hands curled into fists again and Hermione realised they were bleeding both where he'd dug the claws into his palms and also from the nail-beds they'd exploded from.

"Move," he growled at her, sounding like the cold and furious boy he'd been at Hogwarts for all the time she'd known him.

Hermione lifted her hands and placed them flat against his chest. She could feel his heart hammering out an angry beat inside his ribcage. He wouldn't meet her gaze and Hermione realised that in addition to the torment of his own memories by Snape, he was disgusted with himself over this lapse in control that had cause him to give in to the beast he could be. She could tell that his own self-disgust and self-loathing, his anger with himself, was preventing him from calming down and clearing his mind to allow him to shift back to what he should be and to remain disaffected.

"Don't look at me," he growled, his voice gravelly. She noticed idly that in addition to the fangs and claws, he'd expanded slightly as though his muscle had begun to swell and change beneath his skin. His robes looked uncomfortably tight, where before they had looked to be just the right fit.

"Draco," she tried again, smoothing her hands up his chest to his neck, where she trailed her fingers over his hot flesh until she could tilt his jaw to make him meet her gaze.

The sight was unnerving to behold when he did. He looked more like Greyback than like Malfoy. His grey eyes had bled into the yellow of the wolf and his human mouth was filled with sharp and jagged wolf fangs. There was blood on his lips and tongue – his own – from the unnatural shift of his body parts while the rest tried to accommodate the change. Unable to close his mouth properly with a face full of fangs, some of the blood had trickled free, making him look more like a wolf than ever with bloodied drool on his chin.

"Let go," he whispered to her, his clawed hands coming up to grip her wrists and Hermione felt the claws prick at her skin dangerously – wickedly sharp. She could feel the slight roughness of his hands as though the skin of his hands had begun to thicken towards wolf-pads.

Hermione shook her head silently. She refused to cower from him – as he clearly expected - and she felt more than saw Snape moving up behind Draco, his wand drawn but concealed lest Draco lose control and turn on her.

"Calm down," Hermione whispered to him, letting her fingers ghost along the length of his jaw and discovering a fine layer of blonde hair that hadn't been there a few minutes ago. She kept her eyes glued on his, refusing to let him believe that she was staring at him and his partial transformation in horror.

He narrowed those yellow eyes at her, his hands tightening on her wrists enough that his claws bit into her flesh and drew blood.

"Stop looking at me," he hissed, trying to look away again and finding himself unable to do so when she gripped his jaw.

"Why?" she asked plainly.

"Because I'm a monster," he spat, "A hideous beast."

Hermione shook her head in denial. It was going to take more than just her disagreeing with him to make him believe that she didn't think so. Hermione was alarmed to learn that she didn't.

"Are you always this dramatic?" she asked him patiently, knowing that he was.

"Dramatic?" he spat, "I could cut you in half with these."

He held up his hand to show her his bloodied claws.

"I could easily rip your throat out with these," he bared his fangs at her, his lips pulling back from them.

"You could," she agreed quietly, "But you won't."

"What makes you so sure?" he demanded though Hermione could tell she'd effectively shocked him out of his anger.

"Put them away, Draco," Hermione told him before she slipped her hands up, looping them around the back of his neck and pressing closer as she embraced him. He seemed so shocked by the embrace that he held his arms out to the side and made a strange noise. It sounded like a cross between a human huff of confusion and a canine whine. Burrowing her nose into his neck, Hermione nuzzled there before pressing several soft kisses to the skin, noticing the way the hair – which was clearly fur beginning to grow in as part of the transformation – began to recede slowly.

Snape was eyeing her with intrigue from behind Draco, his wand pocketed once more. Hermione met his gaze for a long moment, raising her eyebrows slightly at him even as she felt Draco's arms slowly curl around her. Hermione knew she'd managed to shock him out of his fury, thereby allowing him to reverse the partial transformation. She jolted just the slightest bit when he nipped her with wolf-fangs before they receded. It stung and she winced slightly, realising he'd bitten the top of her shoulder where her dress didn't cover the vulnerable flesh.

She didn't react beyond her jolt, despite the sting, until he finally stopped growling and was instead cuddling her to him like she was a life-line.

"Enough," Snape drawled lazily, "If you have regained your self-control, Draco, then it is time to continue the lesson. Mina, your turn again."

Draco held her a minute longer before letting her go. His eyes had returned to silver once more and he wiped at his bloodied face as though ashamed.

"There's some water on my side table," Hermione told him, suspecting he wanted to wash his mouth out.

He pulled back and made to move towards it before catching hold of her again.

"I hurt you…." he murmured, his brow wrinkling with shame and horror as he spotted the bite-wound on the top of her shoulder and the little wells of blood on her wrists where he'd snatched at her.

"I'm fine," Hermione told him, smiling reassuringly, "Just be a little bit more careful next time."

He looked tortured by what he'd done and Hermione wondered if she'd ever seen Draco Malfoy express so much emotion about anything. It was clear he was embarrassed and horrified with himself.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, hanging his head with shame before trudging over to her bed. This time he was the one to flop down onto it, throwing his arm over his eyes. Hermione watched him for a moment, pity and concern for him warring inside her.

She turned back to Snape and walked over to him, recalling that he was waiting for her.

"Legilimens," he said before she even reached him and Hermione steeled herself against the assault, this one much more vicious than the last. Hermione knew he was doing it to make her stronger and to show her that she needed to always be on her guard. Hermione was pleased when she kept him out for a good few minutes before he moved closer and brushed his fingertips along her jaw again.

This time when he slipped past her barriers, he guided the tour through her mind and Hermione was intrigued to learn he was perusing her memories of past interactions with Malfoy. Flitting through their many arguments, duels and encounters at Hogwarts since she'd first met him. She could feel his confusion when he found them all to be unpleasant and unfavourable, given what he'd been witnessing of her interactions with Malfoy over the past week.

Hermione realised with a jolt that he was looking for some hint that she might've secretly fancied him or something and she groaned when the idea of fancying anyone sent whirling images and memories of Ron spinning through her thoughts like leaves on the breeze. Snape withdrew from her mind again when Hermione hit her knees in front of him.

"Do better," he warned again and Hermione knew that though he didn't say it in front of Malfoy, he meant that she needed to do better at hiding true memories like that. The Dark Lord and most others in his brethren would now recognise Ron and if they came across fond memories of him in her mind, they would grow suspicious.

"Do you know how to create a false memory?" he asked, her as he helped her back to her feet, his hand once again curled against the nape of her neck. His fingernails scraped lightly against her scalp, soothing her aching head and distracting her from the pain.

Recalling Malfoy was in the room, Hermione widened her eyes at him slightly when the touch began to affect her as it had done the first time he'd done it – when she'd been straddling him on the bed before they'd fucked for the first time. He smirked at her in response, but released her.

"I've not really tried before," Hermione admitted, "Thought I know the theory."

"I want you to create one now," Snape informed her, "And we will see if I can tell which is the truth and which is the lie."

Hermione nodded her head, concentrating on trying to create a false memory of her featuring her and Ginny snogging.

"Alright," she told him, gathering up other memories of the boys she had kissed inside her mind and slotting the false memory in with them. She knew he would know which was the lie because he knew she'd never been with another girl, but she wanted him to examine it's quality.

"You must practice not simply resisting and keeping someone out completely, but instead focus on allowing entrance, but only to what you wish to share. Do you understand?" Snape instructed her.

Hermione nodded again and supressed a shiver when he stepped slightly closer and tilted her chin until she met his gaze. She suspected he was trying to teach her to art of entering someone's mind gently whilst in such a position. A way for her to enter their minds while keeping with the idea of honey potting the other Death Eaters. He brushed his mind against her own so softly that Hermione didn't feel he'd entered until he was already perusing her memories again.

Surprised at his subtlety, Hermione pushed forward the collection of memories, including the false one of her and Ginny. He examined them all carefully, forcing Hermione to do the same by extension. In doing so he showed her how she needed to better create the false one. The memories of snogging Ron, Viktor Krum, Malfoy and Snape himself were all accompanied with a swirl of thoughts and feelings, noticing things like the way each boy had his own personal scent and the way their hair or skin felt in her hands. By comparison the false memory she'd created of Ginny was pathetic, carrying no feelings other than mild determination and slight concern. There was no hint of Ginny's scent, no feeling accompanying her having her hands in the girl's long red hair.

"I know which one is false," Snape drawled, "Though it could be worse, for a first attempt. At least it held up against my prodding. Most burst immediately when they're examined."

Hermione heard Draco's huff of surprise from the bed and realised he was shocked at Snape's words of praise. Ordinarily he offered none. That he had done so here with limited criticism was highly out of character for him and Hermione wondered if he was growing too comfortable with her and thereby slipping up. Until she caught the expression glittering in his black eyes and realised he'd mildly praised her in front of Draco on purpose to better make it seem like he genuinely cared for her as though she were really his daughter.

She realised with a jolt that having Malfoy flopped on her bed could potentially mean his sharp nose might be picking up the scent of Snape on the bedclothes, and even possibly the scent of sex since they'd fucked there. Which wouldn't at all hold up to the notion of them being father and daughter.

"Grazie, Papa," Hermione replied to his praise, making sure to push the slightest hint of happiness into her voice as though she accepted both the criticism and the praise and was thrilled to have pleased the stoic man. She realised she would need to work harder on making them seem like father and daughter who'd only known each other a short time. And the best way to do that was to make it seem like she desperately craved his love and approval.

Which should be easy enough, given that as his student she'd been craving his approval since first year and had yet to receive it more than three times.

"Now that you are both sufficiently suffering from nasty headaches, I believe we had best be on our way or we'll be late for dinner and Narcissa will be upset with us," Snape replied briskly, affecting an act of his disconcertion over her response. Hermione marvelled at how good an actor he was.

Sweeping out of the room with a billow of robes and a muttered repairing charm for his torn clothing thanks to Draco claws, Snape could be heard descending the stairs. Hermione turned her attention to Draco.


	12. Chapter 12: Divulgation

**A/N: WARNING! This chapter will, I do not doubt, send some of you crawling away to lick your wounds. As such I would like to bid all of you who have come this far and won't continue, a very fond farewell. Those brave souls among you who can get by the topic of this one, I applaud you and I promise this is the only time such things are so openly discussed for our favourite boy. TRIGGERS, my people. TRIGGERS. You have been warned. As for the rest of you gritty and delightful souls of depravity, I know you're starving for more, so I won't keep you. I just wanted to give a big went snog to all of you who've stuck through this with me and who will read on, leaving me fantastic reviews as you do. You're such darlings.**

 **It should be noted that this chapter was originally part of the previous chapter in my drafts, but it got out of hand and was going to be too much, too soon. So it's a bit of a short one. Don't worry, the next one is longer to make up for it.**

 **Much love! xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Divulgation**

* * *

 _... "I hate it when you get your way,_

 _But we love you, baby._

 _Something's starting to change._

 _You make me suffer, baby" ..._

- **Suffer (Charlie Puth)**

* * *

"Are you alright?" she asked Draco, massaging her temple with one hand as she moved over to where he was still sprawled on the bed. Hermione moved closer to him until she was standing between his spread knees where they hung off her bed.

Leaning down over him, Hermione lowered herself down until she was laid out on top of him, surprised by how she didn't feel overly nervous to be doing so. She really would need to look into the way he made her feel so comfortable. It was unnatural. Laying her cheek against his chest, Hermione balanced the rest of herself over him, aligning their thighs and torsos accordingly.

"Are you?" Malfoy asked rather than answering.

"My head aches," she informed his left pectoral muscle, using the arm she wasn't still rubbing her head with to capture the hand he wasn't using to hide his eyes. She found herself intertwining their fingers as though they'd been holding hands their whole lives.

"That's all you have to say?" Malfoy wanted to know.

"What were you hoping for?" Hermione retorted, "Whimpering over being nipped and clawed by accident? I can assure you that I've tolerated and endured worse."

"You really aren't afraid of me, are you Mina?" he asked, seeming intrigued even as he lifted his arm and tilted his head to meet her gaze. Hermione propped her chin against his sternum and stared back at him.

"I told you I'm not afraid of werewolves. Do you want to share what it was Papa found inside your head that made you lose control?" Hermione asked him softly, her thumb drawing nonsensical patterns against the back of his hand where she held it.

"Not really," he answered, looking away and Hermione bit her lip. She understood him not wanting to share with her given that he believed they'd only just met. He sighed heavily, his chest rising and falling beneath her on the bed.

"He was making me relive the memories of my first revel," Draco admitted when she stayed silent.

"Oh," Hermione said softly, not sure what else she could say. She didn't need him to tell her that they'd done terrible things to him. She could imagine well enough.

"Greyback was the first," Draco informed her, "As Alpha it was his job to… _break me in_."

"He…" Hermione trailed off.

"Fucked me? Yeah," Malfoy sighed, "Like I said before, they give everyone lust potion. A lot of it. With that much of it coursing through your system things like gender and sexual preference don't matter so much anymore. And I was fresh meat. Pretty much all of them took a turn. The pack usually isn't allowed at the revels, but they were all invited to my first one. And they despise humans more than anything. The pack also weren't allowed to fuck the female Death Eaters, though they were allowed at the rest of women there. Muggles and mudblood and half-bloods. So, they took their induced lust out on them and on each other. Mostly on me."

"How can you talk about it so calmly?" Hermione whispered, nosing at the opening of his shirt where his top button was undone. She breathed in the scent of his skin, noting the scent of apple and something spicy like pepper. It was rather pleasant, actually, and Hermione was intrigued that he didn't seem to wear cologne. She'd always just assumed he did.

"What choice do I have?" Malfoy shrugged, "Being bitter over it only makes it harder to hang onto my self-control."

"But they raped you," Hermione protested quietly.

Malfoy met her gaze then, steadily, and Hermione caught the glitter in his eyes of something terrible and dark.

"They'd given me enough lust potion to kill anyone not infected with lycanthropy Mina," he told her quietly, "I was so fucking horny, I was begging them all for more."

Hermione's face paled at his blunt honesty.

"I couldn't sit down comfortably for a month afterwards," he told her, stroking his free hand down her back, "Couldn't even get out of bed for the first week after the revel. The pack all had a go and those bastards all knotted me."

Hermione frowned at the unfamiliar term.

"Knotted?" she asked, not entirely sure she want to know the answer.

"How much do you know about canine reproduction?" he asked her carefully, raising his eyebrows.

"Very little," Hermione replied, "Why?"

"When regular canines mate, the males knot inside the females when they penetrate, locking themselves inside to ensure the female will be more likely to get pregnant. There is a section of tissue at the base of the cock that swells wide enough to prevent dislodgement once inside…. Werewolves can do it to, though we have more control over it," Draco admitted, his cheeks turning pink, "Being knotted is akin to the effect of a fish hook through the finger. It goes in and then catches around the barb, preventing removal without pain. Only instead of a barb it's a big ball – a knot – of tissue preventing removal."

Hermione was staring at him wide-eyed.

"In dogs and wolves it occurs upon penetration, most of the time, but in werewolves it only happens at ejaculation when we will it," Malfoy went on and Hermione found herself marvelling at how clinical he sounded about it all, "I'm told that the women who've experienced it with a werewolf actually enjoy it immensely. However when you're being fucked in the arse against your will, high on enough lust inducing potion to kill a regular human, being repeatedly knotted by some fifty bastards is not something many wish for or even survive."

Hermione felt mildly ill.

"How can you sound calm about that?" Hermione demanded, "How can you not be… I don't know, killing people left, right and centre?"

"I killed a few of them," Draco shrugged and Hermione was shocked at his honesty and to learn that he was a killer, "But I got in some trouble for it when I started killing the Alpha's pups."

"Greyback has cubs?" Hermione asked, her eyes widening even more.

"No," Malfoy actually laughed at that, "No, he calls all the newly infected werewolves 'Pup'. Currently I'm the Pup, since he's been banned from biting anyone for a while, with the exclusion of Weasley the other day. The Dark Lord thinks if Greyback infects too many people the pack will overthrow the Death Eaters – which is actually Greyback's plan. So the Dark Lord banned Greyback from infecting anyone new. He prefers to infect kids, see, and then steals them to raise them away from other humans and away from their families, feeding them hate and malice until they're twisted and deranged. He got shitty with me when I killed off a few of his captains for what they did to me."

Hermione was reeling from the intricacies of Pack politics and still horrified over the knotting and the fact that he'd been raped and could discuss it so calmly.

"You're too calm about this," she informed him, nipping at his chest gently though she didn't recall planning to do so.

"It happened more than a year ago," he shrugged, "I've only been to one other revel since then, but at the last one I attended I was somewhat in the Dark Lord's good graces, so he didn't let anyone fuck me unless that's what I wanted."

"Tell me again why you suggested Greyback as the third person for me to fuck?" she asked him, raising her eyebrows at him in confusion.

"Because otherwise when you _have_ to fuck him, he'll ram his cock down your throat and then knot you. I've seen people's jaws get broken from him doing that. If you pick him by choice he probably won't knot you at all, unless you like it and want him to," Draco told her bluntly and Hermione thought she might be ill.

"I still feel like it would be a bad idea. If I have to shag three people – two of which are werewolves, and you both knot me, I might die."

"You won't die," he rolled his eyes, "You'll just have to make sure the third – Rabastan, you said?"

Hermione bit her lip, "Probably," she nodded.

"Just make sure you're sucking his cock, otherwise you might choke or break your jaw."

"Does that mean you're going to knot me?" Hermione asked, frowning at him.

"Do you want me to?" he asked, his hand stroking over her hair and down the length of her spine again.

"It sounds painful," Hermione said quietly, suddenly wondering if shagging him might be a bad idea.

"It can be. Not as much for girls though, since you're made to have a lot bigger things than a knot coming out your bits… But we can control it. If you don't want me to knot you, I won't. I haven't with anyone else before," Malfoy told her, giving her a small crooked smile as though he felt better at her mild fear over the notion.

Hermione suspected he was pleased she had some sense after all. Enough to fear such strange ideas.

"I…" she trailed off, biting her lip, "Can I let you know?"

He nodded, "But I should warn you – if Greyback is too into it at the revel, he might knot you by accident. It's an instinct for us."

"How can you talk about him so calmly when he raped you and when he tore you up the other day?" Hermione wanted to know, intrigued by the slightest hint of respect she heard in his voice for his Alpha.

"It's hard to explain," Malfoy sighed, "He's…. he's a monster, there's no denying that. He's a ravenous beast who barely manages to hang onto humanity and he craves human flesh even without the full moon and without the transformation. He's been a werewolf a long time – one of the longest to survive. He's a savage, as likely to brutalise you as look at you. But… he's the Alpha. He's in control of the pack, and despite appearances, he's actually a good leader. He twists the pack and fucks them up mentally, but in some ways he's only doing what he can to prepare them for the scorn, prejudice, fear and hate that lycanthropes receive from the rest of humanity. And in his own twisted ways, he does care about the rest of the pack."

"Does that mean your loyalty is to him and not to the Dark Lord?" Hermione asked him.

"My loyalty is to my parents," Malfoy answered honestly, "And to you and Severus, until you fuck me over… But I'd prefer Greyback to the Dark Lord. At least I know where I stand with him. And despite appearances, he pulls me into line and helps me maintain control when I start to lose it. He can make me lose it, and often encourages me to let the beast free… but the other day when he savaged me, it was to keep me from eating you, Severus and my parents. How can I hate him for that?"

"Even after he fucked you?" Hermione frowned.

"He did me a favour actually," Draco sighed, "Don't get me wrong, I'm not really into men, but I was going to be fucked by them all either way. And after he'd bitten me, he believed me to be his responsibility. He didn't have to fuck me. He could have let one of the other bastards in the pack or even one of the twisted cunts among the Death Eaters like Mulciber or Macnair be the ones to break me in. Yeah, he fucked me and I howled like a little bitch until the potion kicked in. But he was the one who fed me his share of the potion so that I'd be out of my mind with lust and not care so much what was happening to me."

"So he… was nice to you?" Hermione asked, failing to comprehend the idea of Greyback possibly being decent underneath all the horrible acts he'd committed and his wretched reputation.

"Yeah," Malfoy sighed heavily again, "Took me a long time to see it. I was a wreck about everything all through last year, at school. Paranoid that people would learn I was a werewolf. Terrified that people would find out I've been raped in every orifice by other men. Confused as hell about my sexual orientation because that bloody potion had me begging for it. Disgusted with what I am after a life spent being told werewolves are half-breed scum even lower than mudbloods and blood traitors. Miserable with the change. But eventually I realised the enemy wasn't Greyback. It was the Dark Lord for putting me through all of it in the first place."

Hermione nodded slowly, supposing that made a twisted sort of sense. She barely noticed when Malfoy rolled the two of them until she was pressed into the mattress beneath him, peering up into his face. The weight of him pressing down on her was comforting and she found herself arching slightly beneath him.

"Scared yet?" he asked quietly, raising his eyebrows at her, "I'll understand if you decide you don't want to…."

He trailed off and Hermione realised he was trying to decide how to quantify this whole thing with her.

"What _do_ you want to do with me?" he asked her suddenly, "I'm telling you all this shit and I have no idea what you even want from me."

"I'd like to be your friend," Hermione told him honestly, finding that whether as Mina or Hermione, she wanted that much from him, "I'd like us to be allies. I want to be able to trust you with every dark secret and fear. I want to shag you…. But I don't want you to be my boyfriend."

He raised his eyebrows at her honesty, "Don't all those other things belong in the boyfriend basket?"

"They do," she nodded, "But if I'm to be shagging you as well as other people for the purpose of making sure don't cry like a scared little girl at my first revel, then I can't be your girlfriend. I'd feel bad about sleeping around on you. And I'd get upset with you for sleeping around on me. I'm possessive of those I date."

"Why would you be sleeping around?" he wanted to know, looking wickedly amused though she caught a glitter in his silver eyes that suggested he was the tiniest bit annoyed or perhaps hurt by the idea, "Don't think I can do the job of preparing you?"

"I'm sure you can," Hermione informed him, "But if I'm only shagging you then things will get messy when the revels happen. I'm expected to fuck three people at those. Minimum. And you were the one who told me to shag more if possible. And if I do that whilst dating you, you'll rip their throats out with your teeth. Werewolves are notoriously possessive."

"You realise that I'm already possessive of you even though I've yet to shag you, right?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"That's kind of the point," Hermione rolled her eyes at him, "Imagine how much worse you would be if we were dating and I had to shag Rabastan or Rodolphus or Bellatrix."

"You think you'll have to shag Aunt Bella?" Draco's eyebrows rose towards his hairline.

"Papa thinks so," Hermione nodded, "Male perversions being what they are over cat-fighting females."

"He's probably right," Draco nodded slowly, "So I suppose I see your point. Does that make me your non-boyfriend?"

Hermione began to laugh at the very idea.

"I suppose it does," she said, "If that's what you'd like to be. You did only just meet me."

"I know," he answered, frowning at her, "But I feel like I've known you forever. Why is that?"

"I don't know," Hermione told him, "But I know what you mean. I feel alarmingly comfortable with you, Draco."

He nodded his head slowly, his blonde fringe shifting restlessly with the movement while his serious grey eyes remained fixed upon her face. Hermione felt a small smile pull at the corners of her mouth as she peered back at him. She sighed when he leaned down and captured her lips with his in a deep and passionate snog. His tongue swept against her bottom lip enticingly before delving into her mouth and curling around Hermione's tongue hungrily.

"Is this really the time?" Snape's voice drawled from the door and Hermione tensed beneath Malfoy. All the more so when Malfoy ignored Snape in favour of thoroughly snogging her until she couldn't think straight. Her fingers clawed at his back, pulling him down on top of her more firmly.

"We're running late," Snape interrupted again, though Hermione would swear he sounded almost amused and she wondered what had gotten into both of them. It seemed out of character for Snape to be amused by horny teenagers. And out of character for Malfoy to be sharing his deep and dark secrets with a girl he barely knew. Even had he known her real identity, Hermione didn't think he'd have ever shared such a story with anyone else.

Had someone hit her with a hex to make people more comfortable around her? Had one of the many potions Snape had given to her done something to her chemical make-up that somehow made people feel like they could trust her? Not that she was complaining if that was the case, given that it would come in handy.

"We should go," Draco told her huskily when he pulled back from her lips to peer down into her face for a long moment.

Hermione nodded before squeaking when he leapt to his feet, taking her with him. She glanced at Snape where he was leaning in the doorway and looking comically annoyed. She thought so only because for all that his expression was stern, there was a glimmer in his eyes that made her think he approved.

As she took his arm, intending to be apparated to Malfoy Manor with the two of them, Hermione felt suspicious that he'd done something to cause Draco to be so open with her.


	13. Chapter 13: Provocation

**A/N: I hope you love this chapter. Sorry about the long delay between updates. Are you ready for more? Another 7k smackeral of honey just for you.**

 **Much love! xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 13: Provocation**

* * *

 _... "Sorry I don't treat you like a Goddess. Is that what you want me to do?_

 _Sorry I don't treat you like you're perfect, like all your little loyal subjects do?_

 _Sorry I'm not made of sugar. Am I not enough for you?_

 _Is that why you always avoid me?_

 _I must be such an inconvenience to you"..._

\- I **'m Just Your Problem (Marceline)**

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Dinner was a tense affair. The Dark Lord was apparently travelling and so was not present at Malfoy Manor that particular evening. Something Hermione couldn't be more thrilled about if she'd tried. The last thing she'd felt like was having to mind her tongue and be on her guard even more than she already was in the presence of the Malfoys and the Lestranges. Having the Dark Lord also be present, Hermione was certain, might have seen her into an early grave.

Hermione had been sure to practice all the pureblooded pomp she knew how as she stalked into Malfoy Manor like she'd been born to traverse its grand halls and finely carpeted corridors. She'd held her head high, pasted a wicked smile worthy of any siren upon her face and revelled it the feeling of being devious, wicked and deceitful. She'd taken special care to once again see her way clear to gifting Mr and Mrs Malfoy more flowers when she greeted them. Unfortunately, Bellatrix had managed to drag herself out of bed long enough to attend dinner alongside her husband as well, though she was terribly pale and looked to be in excruciating pain.

Hermione had chosen to very pointedly ignore etiquette and had refused to offer the other woman her sympathies, her well wishes for a speedy recovery or even a very polite greeting. Much like Snape, Hermione had been sure to do little more than curl her lip at the other woman, earning a fierce glare from Bellatrix in return. The ridiculous witch hadn't even been able to climb out of her chair to properly greet them, she was in so much pain, and Hermione might've taken great pleasure in that fact as she'd flitted around the room, greeting everyone else as though they were beloved old friends rather than alarmingly new acquaintances.

"So Bella, do tell us how the impending pregnancy is going," Snape drawled, poking the bear, so to speak.

Bellatrix looked like she might have murdered him that very moment.

"Oh yes," Hermione piped up in her effected Italian lilt. She'd been practicing it all day with Malfoy around and feared she was in danger of actually suffering the lilt permanently if she kept on with it, "The Dark Lord seemed most interested in the notion of the two of you reproducing, Lord and Lady Lestrange."

Rodolphus looked like someone was trying to feed him arsenic and vomit at her words and the not so subtle reminder. Rabastan, on the other hand, began to chuckle into his appetizer and Draco had to hide a smirk behind his glass of fire whiskey. There could be no doubt in Hermione's mind that both of them were rather enjoying seeing Bellatrix be made fun of when the woman was so notorious for her own cruelty.

"There will be no pregnancy," Bellatrix retorted tightly, her pain-filled eyes sparkling dangerously at the topic of conversation. Hermione knew that if the woman were not still sitting there in agony from her spell days ago, Bellatrix might've hexed them all stupid or even have engaged Hermione in another duel, flinging Killing curses about with gleeful ease.

"Now, Bella," Rabastan chided lightly, sipping from his own whiskey glass with a disaffected air, "It wouldn't do to thwart the Dark Lord's orders."

Narcissa was biting her trembling lower lip, clearly concerned for her sister and still upset over the recollection that Bella had already had one child and had murdered it. Hermione didn't blame her. Had she not fostered such utter loathing for Bellatrix Lestrange and had the woman not tried to kill her very recently, Hermione would have felt very sorry for the witch. It was no secret among those gathered that Bellatrix desperately loathed children and had no desire to sacrifice some of her own youth and vitality for the purpose of bringing offspring into the world. Had Hermione's Bad wolf not been firmly in charge of the broomstick they were steering through treacherous airspace, Hermione might've even offered her condolences to the woman for being given a task so distasteful to her.

Of course, being that Bellatrix was a deranged and mentally unhinged sociopath who had tortured several people into madness – including Neville's parents – and who had murdered more people than Hermione could even count, her sympathies for the woman were in short supply.

"I'm going to kill you, you little bitch," Bella hissed across the table at Hermione, clearly believing it to be all her fault that she had to have a child and that the topic had come up, even though it had been Snape to mention the Dark Lord's orders in the first place. Hermione supposed the fact that she'd been prodding Bella verbally since her arrival was the reason for being targeted by the dark witch.

"That's hardly polite," Hermione chided, smirking widely at the witch across the table and enjoying the fury that ignited in Bellatrix's eyes, "Merlin, anyone might think you'd spent years locked away from the practices of polite society."

Even Lucius smirked at that one and Rabastan began to laugh aloud. Hermione was startled to learn he had a very pleasant laugh. It was slightly wicked to be sure, but for the most part it was genuine and hearty. Hermione actually found she enjoyed the sound. Most especially because he was laughing at her jest, at the expense of a woman she disliked. Draco had to feign a coughing fit to hide his own laughter from his deranged aunt. Clearly he wasn't as confident as Rabastan that Bella wouldn't open his throat with a well-placed hex.

Bellatrix curled her top lip away from her teeth ferally, murder flashing in her eyes but Hermione ignored the woman's expression.

"This is all your fault," Bellatrix snapped at her, "You come in here with your inferior blood and your ridiculous accent and suddenly the Dark Lord is insisting we all need an heir just because Snape was lucky enough to fuck some whore full of a slut like you!"

"Lucky enough?" Hermione smirked slowly, "Is that how you felt when he fucked you, Lady Lestrange? Did you feel lucky?"

Narcissa gasped audibly and Rodolphus stilled. Snape's dark eyes flashed at her in warning over her less than polite dinner conversation and language. Draco looked horrified by the notion of his godfather shagging his aunt. Rabastan laughed even louder and Lucius smirked at Hermione's cruel twist of Bella's words against her.

Bellatrix let out a shriek of utter fury, leaping to her feet and fumbling for her wand. She fumbled because the leaping proved too much for her abused body to handle and she swooned terribly, swaying precariously and almost toppling into her appetizer. Rodolphus reached for his wife, guiding her back down into her chair before she could further embarrass herself. She hit the seat hard and her breathing was ragged from fury and pain.

Hermione almost pitied her as a ragged sob tore from her throat at the hard landing and the exertion it had taken just to try and leap to her feet. For the first time all evening, Hermione bit her tongue on more harsh words she might've liked to spit at the horrible woman. Hermione believed she more than deserved every ounce of agony she was suffering. After the things she had done, Bellatrix Lestrange deserved worse than being tormented and tortured.

"I can't have a child," Bellatrix hissed brokenly, turning her face towards her husband, who reached for her and caressed the back of her neck comfortingly, "I'm too…"

She didn't have to say it. She was too old. Hermione was surprised to hear it. She'd known there were some witches who began menopause around the age of fifty and she knew Bellatrix was pushing that, perhaps a little beyond it even. She was too old to conceive any longer.

Narcissa drew in a ragged breath as Bella sobbed quietly and Hermione felt just the tiniest bit bad. The Good wolf inside of her wanted to comfort her. To suggest there were still options. To apologise for being insensitive. The Evil wolf inside of her refused to let her. Still, it surprised her that Bellatrix would admit to being too old. That she would cry about it in front of people who had openly scorned her.

Was this more of Snape's trickery that had convinced Draco to spill his secrets to Hermione earlier?

"Perhaps I can be of assistance there," Snape suggested, withdrawing a potion from inside his coat pocket and tossing it across to the table to Rodolphus.

Rodolphus caught it and eyed it in confusion as though he didn't understand while Bella sobbed quietly.

"What is it?" Rabastan wanted to know, taking it from his brother and holding it up to the light as though to examine the ingredients through the glass phial.

"Fertility potion," Snape answered briskly, "Even those who have reached the twilight of their reproductive usefulness tend to suffer the ongoing confusion of hormones as the final dregs of stored ovums are sporadically released."

"What use is a fertility potion if she's not… you know?" Draco asked, looking confused.

"The potion will make her... _you know_ … a few more times," Hermione answered, "Depending on the potency, that could cause hyper ovulation, you do realise that, don't you?"

She addressed Snape seriously.

"I was aware, yes. Bella, if you drink that and spend the rest of the month partaking in Rodolphus's attentions without contraceptives, you will fall pregnant," Snape drawled in reply.

Bellatrix hiccupped quietly, lifting her tear-streaked face from her husband's shoulder while Rodolphus looked as though he'd just been given a very important gift. Dare she say he looked happy at the notion of being able to impregnate his wife despite his misgivings?

Hermione watched as Bellatrix forgot some of her pain and instead reached for the potion, snatching it back from Rabastan, uncorking it and drinking it down quickly. She made a slight face at the flavour. Hermione realised with a jolt that for all their teasing of her, and for all she'd heard about the woman not wanting children, she desperately wanted to please the Dark Lord.

She went against her own nature to follow his commands and do his bidding. Hermione realised then that the witch truly was crazy. She'd gone to Azkaban for the loyalty she'd displayed to the Dark Lord and she believed any defiance of his wishes were abominable. The notion of not being able to follow a command to have children because her body was failing her made Hermione realise that Bellatrix didn't cry in self-pity or sorrow over her lack of ability to conceive.

She'd cried in shame over not being able to do as her Lord commanded.

"How did you know?" Rodolphus asked quietly of Snape as everyone sat in silence for a little while after that.

"The Dark Lord appraised me of your situation," Snape replied with a blank look.

"He told you that I…?" Bellatrix asked, curling her lip in disgust both over the notion of Snape knowing her menopausal state and the idea of the Dark Lord sharing things with him at all.

"He is most intent on seeing you bear the next Lestrange heir," Severus answered with a shrug, "When he learned of your deteriorating ability to carry out his bidding, he ordered me to brew a fertility potion. You are not the only witch who will be ingesting it, either."

"Meaning?" Lucius asked sharply, looking concerned.

"It seems that in a bid for ensuring another generation of dedicated followers, the Dark Lord has imposed a mandate upon all of his followers. Those of you without an heir are to secure one as soon as possible. This potion will be administered to the wives of all his loyal Death Eaters to further the pure bloodlines. He also means to begin arranging marriages between unwedded followers and many within the pure families."

"Meaning you'll have to marry?" Lucius asked, looking alarmed.

"I've already got an heir," Severus replied, pointing at Hermione indicatively, "And I am not a pureblood. Rabastan, on the other hand…"

"The Dark Lord and I have already had a discussion about my impending nuptials," Rabastan inserted into the conversation with a wicked grin aimed directly at Hermione, "I also believe Draco will be required to make a commitment of some kind by the end of his schooling. Sooner, if possible."

"Indeed," Snape drawled and Hermione felt a chill run down the length of her spine, "These are trying times, after all. So many lives are being sacrificed. I expect that the Dark Lord will instigate the use of the Fertility Potion at the upcoming revel as well, and will be preventing the slaughter of all witches who will be present. One might wish to be careful where he pokes himself this revel, lest illegitimate bastards come springing out of the woodwork."

"Ah but surely Severus, you do not mean to imply one shouldn't sow a few wild oats when your own sowing has reaped such a delight," Rabastan smirked across the table at Hermione, who rolled her eyes and took a big bite of her appetizer.

"Just a word of warning to the wise," Snape shrugged as though he hadn't seen the way Rabastan looked at Hermione. He did however slant a glance at both Draco and Lucius, in addition to Rodolphus as though to caution them about who they shagged if they didn't want to go knocking anyone up. Hermione bit her lip, wondering what kind of effect it would have to see her taking a Fertility potion in addition to the contraceptive potion Snape had given her a few days ago.

One was designed to send her uterus into hibernation and the other was designed to kick-start it into reproducing babies like some kind of Death Eater Spawn factory. She shuddered the think about the likes of the people she might be asked to shag and more importantly about the men whose children she might be expected to birth. Merlin, she hadn't signed up for that. She could handle being a Death Eater and even having to have sex with a bunch of people she loathed, but having their children was a bit much.

Of course, the alternative was marriage and the request of her husband that she not be shagged by anyone but him. Hermione shuddered again at the idea of being forced into marrying any of the horrid people who were Death Eaters. Suddenly the idea of pretending Snape was her father rather than her teacher or her lover seemed like the worst she'd ever heard. If she was going to marry anyone she'd prefer it be someone she knew still had some good in them. Someone who knew her secrets and tolerated her anyway.

Bloody hell, this was getting complicated.

Why hadn't Snape told her about these new developments this morning, before Draco had come by and before he'd sent her gallivanting off to see Harry and the Weasleys? He'd clearly been aware of the idea of Death Eaters being married off and forced to begin reproducing. Did he not consider that it would be too much for her to handle? It was one thing to do this until they brought the Dark Lord down. It was entirely another to marry and birth children with some of these rotten people.

She was supposed to be able to get out of this at the end. There was supposed to be light at the end of the Dark tunnel. Light that looked like Harry winning and the Dark Lord dying. Light that saw most of the wretched men and women in the Dark Lord's service killed or locked up for the rest of their days. Surely Snape didn't expect her to go through with it. Rabastan had made it more than clear that he wanted to marry her. The Dark Lord had also hinted at the notion that Draco being a werewolf meant the Malfoy bloodline was no longer pure and therefore might not insist upon Draco marrying. Rabastan seemed to think he would, but Hermione wasn't so sure.

Hermione eyeballed Snape coolly from her seat beside him. Draco was on her other side and Hermione felt his ankle curl around hers under the table as though he could sense her growing concern and need to exclaim in outrage. Realising she still had a part to play, Hermione polished off the rest of her appetizer without another word. Snape, Lucius Malfoy, and the Lestrange brothers fell to discussion over the extent of things at the Ministry.

It seemed there had been some problems lately in regards to the prisoners and if Hermione hadn't been paying such close attention to their words she might've missed the subtle, Severus Snape shaped fingerprints that were behind the manipulations they spoke of. Some of the prisoners they'd been intending to escort to Azkaban had disappeared under Umbridge's care. Rowle had been accused of being in cahoots with Blood Traitors when he'd been caught with stolen goods.

Apparently the Dark Lord was very displeased over it. All of this had been taking place while Hermione had been recovering from her initiation into the ranks. Hermione also learned - after a pointed comment from Rodolphus regarding Hermione's appearance in their midst coinciding with many of the problems that were arising – that the Dark Lord himself had imposed on Snape's hospitality to check on Hermione himself and to ensure she was indeed still suffering the aftermath of being branded a Death Eater.

Snape claimed to have been working tirelessly on brewing the Fertility potion and ensuring Hermione survived being branded.

Narcissa remained tight-lipped and silent through the entire meal, not saying a single word. Bellatrix seemed entirely too pained by her still recovering body to contribute to the conversation or even to threaten Hermione, though she did shoot a few glares across the table at her for good measure. Draco too remained silent, his ankle curled around her own under the table, a warm and solid reminder that she had a part to play and wasn't to begin shouting at Snape about the notion of getting married and having children with Death Eaters.

When the main meal was over, the elves brought them all some dessert, but Hermione declined. The food was rich and heavy, making her feel extremely full after such a prolonged time without it and then with so little. The Dark Mark on her forearm and the Darkness inside her soul was also making her feel nauseas. The dress she wore showed the mark plainly upon her milky skin, a black stain that spoke of her wickedness and her place among the ranks of the terrible and the villainous.

Luckily Hermione had yet to deal with it oozing more ink from her skin as it had been doing since she woke. She sincerely hoped the leaking had to do with the result of her committing good deeds. Snape had said it was very unusual for hers to do as it was doing. She didn't want to give away the fact that she was actually muggle-born or somehow too pure of heart to accept such wretchedness inside her soul. She didn't want to arouse suspicion or invite questions she'd rather not answer.

"Are you sure you won't have some dessert, Mina?" Narcissa offered to Hermione quietly while the men continued talking amicably as though they weren't discussing the idea of sending innocent muggleborns to Azkaban for 'stealing' magic.

"I couldn't eat another bite, Mrs Malfoy," Hermione assured the woman politely, "This was my first full meal since my initiation and I'm afraid I'm still rather out of sorts."

Narcissa nodded sympathetically, her eyes darting to the Dark Mark on Hermione's forearms.

"Vile things, aren't they?" she whispered, "The very sight of them makes me shudder. Such a grotesque design and a disgusting process for obtaining them. I cried for a month when Draco was marked."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at the woman's honesty before everyone else fell silent at the table and turned slowly to look at Narcissa. The woman clapped her hand over her mouth as though she couldn't believe what she'd just said.

"Why did I say that?" she whispered, seemingly to herself, her cheeks turning pink as everyone looked utterly shocked by her honesty.

"The Dark Mark is badge of honour, Cissy!" Bellatrix scolded her sister, "How dare you refer to the Dark Lord's design as grotesque?"

"It is ugly," Rodolphus spoke up before Narcissa could trip insincere apologies off her tongue, "Wretched thing."

Hermione glanced around wide-eyed as slowly the others at the table agreed with Narcissa's words while Snape interlaced his fingers between his chin as though watching some kind of horror show on display. He glanced at her sideways with a knowing smile and Hermione wondered what he knew. This was the second time a member of the Malfoy family had been unabashedly honest with her about things they would never usually mention.

She raised one eyebrow at the man in confusion and he winked very subtly, making her think he was behind these outbursts of honesty.

"Do you believe it to be beautiful then?" Hermione addressed her question to Bellatrix across the table where she was lecturing her husband and her brothers-in-law on the importance of the design.

"It is the signature of our Lord," Bellatrix insisted, "It is beautiful because it is our connection to him and he to us."

"But that wasn't the question. No one denied its usefulness. Just its aesthetic appeal. Does the skull and snake design speak to you aesthetically, Mrs Lestrange?" Hermione asked.

Bellatrix looked torn for a moment, and then slightly confused as she looked down at the Dark Mark upon her own forearm. She stared at it for a long time in silence and Hermione wondered what her answer was going to be. Hermione thought the design was hideous. She suspected from the guilty expression on the faces of everyone else at the table that they did too. Bellatrix was the most deranged, however, and therefore the most likely to genuinely think it a nice image.

"It's…" she trailed off, searching for the right word and seeming to have trouble, "It's a part of the Dark Lord… a part of him upon each of us."

"Doesn't make it pretty," Rabastan inserted into the conversation, his gaze still fixed unsettlingly on Hermione. She didn't know why he unnerved her so. She'd already decided she was going to honeypot herself to him and indeed she was currently plotting how best to go about seducing him – not that it would be hard.

Maybe it was the alarming fact that despite fourteen years in Azkaban, he seemed entirely sane. At least, as sane as a Dark wizard who'd committed acts of torture and murder could be. In fact, from some of the comments he'd made and some of the habits Hermione had noticed him practicing, it seemed almost as though Azkaban had effected Rabastan in a way no one else she knew who'd escape the prison was effected.

He seemed like he was still as young as he'd been when he went in.

Everyone else she'd known who'd gone to Azkaban – Sirius, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, even Lucius – they had all seemed older and wearier as a result of their stay. They unhinged and began to crack. Rabastan didn't seem as though that had happened to him. He'd aged somewhat, though he didn't look a day older than his thirty-two years. It was almost as if his personality had gone into hibernation for the length of time he'd been incarcerated and now that he was free he seemed like he were of a mental age with Draco or Hermione herself.

He seemed no older and no more mature than perhaps eighteen or nineteen. At least not as far as mental faculties and general understanding of the world and the way it worked went. He certainly seemed clever and entirely devious. Wicked, even. But he still seemed to possess the exuberance of youth that the others who'd been to Azkaban lacked. If she was being honest he didn't look aged and broken the way his brother and his sister-in-law did after being in Azkaban either. They were much older than him, she knew, but he also didn't look like he'd aged terribly in prison. Hermione wondered idly if the reason for that was to do with his memories. Inside Azkaban the presence of the Dementors made it cold and terrible, like there was no happiness left in the world.

But they also made the prisoners relive their worst memories. Sirius had avoided some of their effects by transforming into his animagus form. Could it be that Rabastan was also an animagus? Or did he just not have very many bad memories with which to be tortured?

Was he without horrible memories to torment him through the long lonely nights in prison? Was he without remorse over the crimes he had committed?

"No," Bellatrix said finally, drawing Hermione's attention away from her ponderings over Rabastan Lestrange, "It's not pretty."

The silence that followed her admission was long and spoke volumes of the shock they all felt to hear her admit her Dark Mark wasn't beautiful. Hermione wondered what was going on that everyone was acting odd and out of character. Snape clearly knew and she hoped he would fill her in at some more opportune moment.

"It's wretched," Narcissa blurted again and Hermione wondered if the poor woman was somehow effected by her proximity to Snape. Had he cast some sort of charm that made people blurt out truthful answers?

"Papa?" Hermione asked, being sure to keep up the façade that they were father and daughter.

Snape glanced over at her, still smirking knowingly to himself over the turn the conversation had taken. He raised one eyebrow slowly, silently asking her what she wanted.

"You made mention earlier of the Dark Lord's intention to ensure those among his followers all have legitimate heirs and it makes me wonder… do you suppose the Dark Lord will also be requiring an heir?" she asked delicately and she enjoyed the way everyone at the table looked utterly shocked by her question.

Snape paled slightly and his hand clenched involuntarily around his spoon. Draco outright dropped his, splattering ice-cream across the table as a result. When Hermione glanced at him she noticed that he'd also turned a horrid shade of green as though the very idea sickened him. Bellatrix's eyes widened at the notion and Hermione could tell from the expression on her face that she had already begun plotting a way to make sure she was the one to carry such a child, should the Dark Lord require an heir.

Lucius looked utterly terrified of the Dark Lord reproducing and Narcissa seemed to lose all control of herself, for she began to cry softly. Hermione wondered if she was still recalling the niece or nephew she'd lost thanks to her sister's incarceration. Rodolphus paled terribly and slanted a narrow-eyed gaze at his wife as though he knew she were plotting some way around his demand that she only ever bear his children.

Hermione's eyes danced back across the table to Rabastan and Hermione found that he looked intrigued and curious, but not at all like he cared one way or the other if the Dark Lord wanted to reproduce. No, he looked curious about her calm demeanour in the face of such mentions as the need for childbearing and Hermione realised his earlier mention of needing a wife and an heir had been meant to unsettle her. He looked puzzled and all the more interested in her to learn she wasn't so easily rattled.

If only he could see inside her head, Hermione thought grimly, then he'd know how terrified she was. Mentions of childbearing riled the Evil wolf inside her, for children required love and care and other nice things that such evil did not understand or wish to indulge in. Her Good wolf stirred too, unnerved by the notion of bearing children for the likes of Death Eaters like Rabastan or Draco or Merlin only knew who else.

"I don't believe the Dark Lord wishes an heir," Snape answered her when he'd controlled what she didn't doubt was a spurt of hate and fear within himself over the very notion, "I imagine he would not at all like the idea of a child of his potentially… usurping him."

"You think anyone could usurp the Dark Lord?" Bellatrix sneered, her head snapping up.

"I think that the Dark Lord and I have both read too much literature featuring sons who steal their father's throne or political power or even magical power to ever risk such a thing occurring. It would not be an easy thing, even for the Dark Lord, to murder one's own child," Snape answered diplomatically and Hermione marvelled at his ability to be continually weaving such a tangled web of lies and deceit, layering them and reinforcing them in different and unique ways.

His words might've pertained to the Dark Lord, but they hinted at the notion of him growing to care for her so much already that the notion of killing her would be difficult to do. Hermione knew it was just part of his charade, another side of his multi-faceted game. But she smiled at him brightly nonetheless to let him know she understood the message and was pleased, playing her own role as a daughter who craved the love and approval of the father she'd never known.

Bellatrix sniffed disdainfully at Snape's answer before turning to her sister.

"Cissy, stop blubbering," she commanded, "Now. Are you going to have another child to make up for having a half-breed son?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed hatefully and she heard a very soft growl emit from Draco at Bellatrix's words. Hermione wondered what he would do.

"Don't you dare insult my son, Bella," Narcissa ceased her crying, lifting her face out of her hands to glare malevolently at her sister, "You might be so heartless as to be able to cast off your own offspring as being a mere inconvenience, but I love my son."

Hermione glanced back at Narcissa for her bold words as she took a stab at the very thing that had upset her about Bellatrix just days ago. Bellatrix looked like she'd been slapped across the face at Narcissa's response.

"How dare you talk to me that way?" Bellatrix demanded, her temper flaring and insanity glittering in her eyes before she turned from her sister just as suddenly and glared at her husband, "You told them!"

Rodolphus, however, was glaring at his younger brother and Hermione's eyes danced to Rabastan. He looked entirely unrepentant.

"Rabastan?" Rodolphus asked in a deceptively calm tone.

"Problem, brother?" Rabastan smirked cruelly.

"You shared that story with the family?" Rodolphus asked, "You shared the story of my son?"

"Did you wish to keep him a secret?" Rabastan asked unapologetically.

"You!" Bellatrix narrowed her eyes on her brother-in-law, "I should've killed you when I had the chance."

"You needed me, Bella," Rabastan retorted, "And you still do."

Hermione's gaze darted around the table as the family drama began to play out, utterly intrigued by all of it. She'd never been privy to big family fights. Her own parents had each been solitary children so she had no aunts, uncles or cousins to contend with and her Grandparents had perished before she'd been old enough to remember much of them. Her mum and dad rarely fought too, so she'd never been privy to family fights filled with dark secrets, drama and horror. The Weasleys were loud when they fought, but always over silly things.

Not over wretched secrets like infanticide committed in prison.

"The second I don't, Rabastan," Bellatrix purred nastily, trailing off threateningly.

"You'll die before that happens, Bella," Rabastan told her in a deceptively calm voice, while he eyed the woman like she were a specimen under glass that he was contemplating dissecting, "I promise, you will."

The threat in his words was clear and Hermione smirked cruelly when Bella looked affronted. Hermione eyed Rabastan and Rodolphus, wondering how their dynamic worked. If it came down to a fight, would Rodolphus choose his brother or his wife?

Hermione would very much like to find out.

Beside her at the table, Draco was still growling softly and his gaze was fixed hatefully on his aunt. When Hermione looked over at him, she saw that he looked like he wanted to jump the table and rip his aunt's throat out with his teeth. In fact, he was baring them at the woman and they looked to be sharpening before her eyes.

"Are you growling at me, Draco?" Bellatrix asked, her insanity clearly raging this evening as she spun away from the fight with her brother-in-law to smile wickedly at her nephew, "What's the matter Draco, don't like being reminded you're a half-breed mutt?"

Draco's snarl grew louder and Hermione suspected that with the full moon approaching he had less control over the animal within. He rose slightly from his chair, his nails sharpening into wicked claws.

"Is this supposed to convince us you're not a half-breed?" Bella taunted, clearly enjoying pushing the boy towards rage, "You look more and more like your mutt of an Alpha with every passing second. You're a disgrace to the name Malfoy and to such a pure bloodline."

"And whose fucking fault is that?" Draco snarled through wicked fangs.

Hermione caught the way Lucius paled, clearly believing it to be his fault. She supposed that in some ways, it was. But were it not for that fact that Voldemort was a ruthless, violent lunatic, he'd never have been bitten in the first place because Lucius would never have had a task to fail at.

"I think I'd prefer to be a half-breed than to be insane as a result of prolific inbreeding," Hermione mused almost to herself, her gaze also fixed on Bella.

"So says they half-blood whore," Bellatrix sneered immediately, her attention wavering from Draco in favour of a more acceptable target. Hermione suspected the woman knew she was walking perilous ground tormenting Draco, risking her sister's wrath and being attacked by Draco himself. That she could barely stand on her own without pain and without assistance seemed to warn her away from such an endeavour. Especially when she could pick on Hermione instead.

"And I thought we were all whores here," Hermione replied, clicking her tongue speculatively, "Should we take a tally, Lady Lestrange? Let's both count how many men in this room we've each fucked and compare notes, shall we?"

"She's got you there Bella," Lucius commented, clearly pleased to see his son defended even though he hadn't done it himself. Hermione wondered if it was the wrath of the Dark Lord he feared should he speak out in defence of his son over Draco's fate, or if he was so horrified by Draco's condition that he couldn't bear to mention it or think of it.

"But for how long?" Rodolphus asked, slanting glances at his brother and his nephew.

"Are you offering your _services_ , Lord Lestrange?" Hermione replied, affixing a vixen-like smile on her lips and letting a hot gaze rake over the man. She wondered how well she pulled it off. She'd never had much cause to eye-fuck anyone in the past. And she didn't find Rodolphus to be particularly attractive, no matter how handsome he might have been before the ravages of prison.

Rodolphus curled his lip at her.

"Careful, little girl," he warned, "Don't go biting off more than you can swallow."

"Oh I don't swallow, I just chew up and spit out," Hermione retorted, winking at him.

Bellatrix looked like she wanted to claw Hermione's eyes out at the sexually charged banter between her husband and her enemy. Rabastan whistled low, smirking widely and Hermione slanted a sly glance at him. He looked like he wanted to climb across the table and have his way with her. Just then another snarl came from Draco and Hermione looked over to see that he seemed to be losing control of the wolf. He looked ready to pounce on Bellatrix.

"Easy, Pup," Rabastan said, suddenly turning his attention to the Malfoy heir.

Draco's head tilted ever so slightly at being called 'Pup' and Hermione recalled that he'd said that Greyback called him that because he was the newest member of the pack and that as Alpha, Greyback helped him control his wolf.

"Draco?" Hermione asked, reaching for him despite the feral glint in his eyes, which had flashed to lupine gold instead of Malfoy silver.

His head twisted towards her when she brushed a finger over his cheek feeling fuzziness of fur threatening to spill free of his skin if he shifted completely. She needed to get him out of there, otherwise he was going to lose it and rip someone's throat out. And while she would very much like to watch Bella's lifeblood spill out across the marble floor of the Manor, she doubted Draco would go unpunished for such a thing.

"You never finished my tour the other day," she reminded him, still stroking his cheek affectionately and being sure not to show any fear of him, even while he looked like he might kill her and everyone else in the room, "Does Malfoy Manor have a pool? I'm feeling the need to rinse off the vileness of this evenings company."

She slanted another cold glare at Bellatrix. Draco growled again, looking like he wasn't very much in control.

"Why don't the Pup and I both show you, Miss Graziana-Snape?" Rabastan offered, suddenly recalling his gentlemanly manners.

"That might be nice," Hermione said, getting to her feet and urging Draco up next to her. She slipped her hand inside his, ignoring the prick of his claws against her vulnerable flesh.

"Lady Malfoy, Lord Malfoy, thank you so much for dinner. It was delicious," Hermione said, remembering the importance of politeness despite the crude things she'd said during dinner. Both of Malfoy's parents looked relieved and grateful to her.

"You are welcome here for dinner anytime, Mina," Narcissa promised her and Hermione was surprised when the woman squeezed her hand thankfully. Hermione smiled brightly at her before slanting a glance across the table at Rodolphus.

"Lord Lestrange, it was a _pleasure_ to see you, as always," she smirked at the man before flicking her gaze back to Snape, "Papa, I need a word with you if you could find me when you're ready to leave."

Snape raised his eyebrows at her even as she began to leave the room, escorted by a still snarling Draco. Rabastan rounded the table and offered her his elbow as though to escort her like a proper gentleman. Hermione waited until she was almost all the way to the door and gone before she turned back and looked over her shoulder.

"Oh, and Bellatrix?" she asked sweetly, waiting for the witch to turn slowly towards her, looking like she wanted to hex Hermione into an early grave. Hermione smiled cruelly at her as she said, "Good luck getting pregnant."


	14. Chapter 14: Distraction

**A/N: Goddess, but I wish I had every chapter complete so I could publish them all in a very timely fashion and watch you react to the story as a whole. I love the chapter-by-chapter reactions you all give, but I do so wish I could get it all written faster and to you just so that you know all that I know and understand where I'm going with every plot-arc and twist. So that you can love the characters as I do. This one is a short chapter, but essential to the plot. Thanks ever so much to all of you who take the time to review. You are my angels!**

 **Much love! xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 14: Distraction**

* * *

 _... "Blackbird singing in the dead of night,_

 _Take these broken wings and learn to fly._

 _'Cause all your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise._

 _Blackbird fly, into the light of a dark black night" ..._

- **Blackbird (The Beatles)**

* * *

She was lead through the house by a still growling Draco Malfoy and a wickedly chuckling Rabastan Lestrange. Hermione was intrigued by how warm he felt as he escorted her through the expansive Manor.

"Draco?" Hermione asked him quietly, squeezing his hand slightly, "Do you require the assistance of Greyback?"

"No," he growled but when Hermione looked at him she suspected he was lying. He'd stopped transforming, but he wasn't reversing it either.

Releasing his hand, Hermione tugged on the side of his robes, pulling him closer to her until he was pressed to her side before she slung her arm around his waist and forced him to curl his arm around her shoulders. She pressed herself against his side, noting that he felt even warmer than Rabastan did.

"You ok, Pup?" Rabastan asked of Draco, glancing sideways at him.

"I'm going to rip her fucking throat out if she keeps calling me a half-breed," Draco replied, his voice gravelly with hatred.

"Bella's endearments do leave something to be desired," Rabastan nodded his head, "You need to get something over on her to keep her off your back. The Dark Lord's continued torment of you makes her think she can say whatever she likes and get away with it because he does."

"I prefer the idea of seeing her throat ripped out," Hermione informed both of them wickedly, "I think I might even find cause to dance, should that ever occur."

"You do loathe her, don't you?" Rabastan smirked, "And here I thought perhaps you were just like her – interested in seeing how far people can be pushed before they crack."

"Unfortunately, Rabastan – may I call you Rabastan? – I see no point into attempting to crack the already mentally fractured," Hermione informed hm.

"She's not unhinged," Rabastan informed them, "Close though."

"Maybe so," Hermione sighed, "But it feels unkind to spar with a mentally handicapped person. I'd hate to be considered unkind."

Rabastan smirked down at her and Hermione grinned ruthlessly back. She was surprised to find that her skin didn't crawl to be standing to close to him, though she suspected that Draco's arm around her shoulders was providing her a balm against how unnerving she found Rabastan to be.

"I'm sure you could never be unkind, Mina," he assured her and Hermione marvelled at his ability to make it seem like she already was and that he approved.

"Indeed," Hermione agreed, opting for her best Snape voice.

"Merlin you sound like him when you use that tone," Draco commented, glancing down at her, "Makes me feel like I'm back in Potions and have done something wrong."

"You mean Papa?" Hermione smiled, "It seems to be a favourite tone of his."

"It is," Draco nodded, grinning at her and she was pleased to see that his fangs were receding.

"You do have a pool here, right?" she asked, "I wasn't just asking to get us out of the dining room."

"You actually want to swim?" Draco asked her, raising one eyebrow as though he was surprised to hear such a thing.

Hermione nodded, pleased to see he was getting himself back under control now that they were free of Bella's wretched presence.

"You don't have your swimming trunks," he pointed out.

"I thought I might not use them," Hermione smiled at him wickedly.

"The pool is right this way," Rabastan told her and Hermione grinned at the tone in his voice that suggested he approved of her notion. She recalled suddenly that before she'd blacked out from the pain, she'd looked right into his eyes while she'd orgasmed during her initiation. He hadn't made mention of it but when she glanced back up into his green eyes, she could see the same unmasked desire glittering in those emerald pools.

"Oh this is lovely," Hermione sighed when they reached the pool, noticing the way the torches of the Manor lit the same way they did at Hogwarts when using corridors or rooms that were unlit, the magic detecting the presence of someone needing the light and so brightening the room. It was wide and open, the air thick with the damp of the water and the scent of the chemicals used to keep it clean.

Large and rectangular, there was a high-dive platform at the far end of the pool and the water swirled constantly down that end, should anyone seek to dive into the water uninjured from such heights.

"It will be cold, Mina," Rabastan cautioned her, leaning into her ever so slightly where his arm was still interlocked with hers. Hermione wondered if so long spent in Azkaban meant he craved human contact and the warmth of touching another person.

"Nonsense," Hermione rolled her eyes even as she disentangled herself from him and Draco.

She began pulling on the laces of her corset to undo it and free herself of her dress. She made sure to move out of reach of both wizards as she did so before peeling herself out of the dress and leaving it bunched on the floor by the edge of the pool. Dressed only in her black lacy lingerie, Hermione could practically feel their combined gazes like a hot caress sweeping over her skin. Draco had seen her in as much whilst in her room earlier before they'd come to dinner, but Rabastan was seeing it for the first time.

Reminding herself of Snape's words about not showing any weaknesses or vulnerabilities, and reminding herself that she no longer had any physical flaws like body hair or cellulite, Hermione strutted with all the confidence of a runway model as she crossed to the very edge of the pool. She considered stripping completely, knowing that sooner or later she would be naked before both wizards behind her but she decided against it. Better to torment and tease them a while longer.

Besides, she didn't think she could handle shagging both of them just yet. Especially not together. And if she got naked they might get the wrong idea and think she was hoping to shag both of them this evening. When she reached the edge of the pool, Hermione turned back to face both of them, smiling alluringly.

"Coming?" she purred at them enticingly before she did the only trick she knew how to do from her days as a naughty, show-off child. Balancing on her toes at the edge of the pool, Hermione flung herself up and back, tucking into a tight ball and performing a backflip into the water.

She plunged beneath the cool surface and gasped at the temperature before acclimatising to it. She kicked towards the surface and took a deep breath, pleased she hadn't messed up the trick despite the number of years it had been since she'd done one as a girl. When she broke the surface Hermione giggled at the sight of Draco and Rabastan both shedding their clothing in a hurry until they only wore silk boxers. She smirked to see that Rabastan's were blue while Draco's were black.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat when she saw the number of scars that littered Draco's lithe body. She'd seen him naked once before – the day Ron had been bitten – but she hadn't paid any mind to his scars or his naked form in any sense. He was covered in them, bearing almost as many as Snape had himself. There was a shiny red one on his shoulder where Greyback had savaged him for trying to bite Hermione, and there was a long diagonal slash across his torso from what Harry had done to him in sixth year with the Sectumsempra spell.

The rest were all from fights with other werewolves, she realised. There were teeth marks, claw marks and scratches all over him. Many of them were faded to pale pink or white, but they still stood out against his pale skin. He was too thin as a result of his condition too, his ribs visible and sticking out slightly. She could tell from the way he moved that he was a predator, a powerful one. He was lithe and when he moved, he rippled slightly, hard cords of muscle moving beneath blemished alabaster silk. The very sight of him made parts of her tingle needily and Hermione feared she would become a nymphomaniac before this task was through.

She ought not to be attracted to the likes of Draco Malfoy. She was in love with Ron, curse it all and though she'd broken his heart just that afternoon, she still felt like she was betraying him to be attracted to anyone else. Particularly to his enemies.

Turning her attention to Rabastan, she allowed herself to examine him carefully as well. Unlike Draco he had a light dusting of dark hair across his chest and over his lower abdomen, in addition to the strip running south below his boxers. His was lean as well, and when he wore so little she could see some of the effects of Azkaban. He was in decent shape, like Snape had been, wiry with muscle as a result of the raw power demanded when one wielded magic. Hermione didn't doubt that he could easily overpower her physically.

He didn't have any visible marks on his flesh from the front that she could see, but for the Dark Mark on his left forearm like the one on Draco and the one marring her own arm. Hermione eyed him carefully as he and Draco both advanced on the pool. For all that he unnerved her with his forwardness, Hermione couldn't deny that she was intrigued by the man. There was something alluring about those green eyes and about the balance he'd struck between insanity and rationality. He seemed, for the most part, entirely sane. Despite fourteen long years in Azkaban. And despite being a twisted and evil Death Eater.

When both Rabastan and Draco dived into the pool, Hermione floated on her back, watching the pair of them surface. Part of her was utterly intrigued by the two of them while another part of her prattled incessantly about how horrified Harry and Ron would be if they could see her now. She had to remind herself that she was a Death Eater now too and that she'd left her friends behind at the Burrow where they would live their untainted lives. A painful twist inside herself was all Hermione allowed to show of the heartache she felt over having bombarded them with the truth of all she would be doing in her capacity as a Death Eater spy. If Ron could see her now he would howl with fury and be trying to kill both of the wizards in the pool with her. If he ever learned she had shagged Snape, he would likely never speak to her again and Hermione could just imagine the betrayed and disgusted expression he would wear.

Shaking her head to clear it, Hermione returned her attention to the Death Eaters before her. Draco had himself back under control and was no long caught in the half-form between man and beast.

"It's bloody freezing," he complained when he surfaced and began paddling over to her.

"Oh it is not, don't be a baby," Hermione chided him, wrapping herself around his back when he stood beside her in the shallow water, "Feeling better now?"

He peered at her over his shoulder while Hermione trailed the tip of her nose over his wet skin, breathing him in and enjoyed the intimate feel of being pressed against him.

"Yeah," he nodded his head, watching Rabastan paddle closer to them.

"Good," Hermione grinned, nipping the side of his neck.

"So tell me something, Mina," Rabastan said, floating on his back in the water next to Draco while Hermione perched on Draco's back.

"What would you like to know, Rabastan?" Hermione asked, peering at him curiously for his light tone.

She'd been trying to get a read on the type of person he was and how he reacted to certain things, but thus far all she'd seen was a willingness to do the Dark Lord's bidding and a proclivity for saying inappropriate things, all whilst maintaining a rather chipper and amused seeming disposition.

"Did I imagine it, or did you orgasm during your initiation?" he asked, smirking at her.

Hermione stared back at him unflinchingly.

"Been dreaming about my orgasm-face, Rabastan?" Hermione asked wickedly in return, noticing the way he floated closer until he could tangle one of his hand with Draco's.

Draco didn't protest the hold and Hermione glanced between the two of them interestedly. Draco had told her earlier that he wasn't interested in men, despite what had happened to him, but he didn't protest holding Rabastan's hand. Were they friends? She hadn't gotten the feeling they were when she'd first mentioned notions of shagging Rabastan as one of the three for the revel, and Draco had said he'd never shagged or been shagged by Rabastan.

But they seemed comfortable with one another. Maybe they were friends. If she was right about the notion of Rabastan being mentally stunted thanks to his prison sentence, there was a possibility they'd become friends. They certainly didn't seem to dislike each other and Draco hadn't protested being called Pup when Rabastan had done so.

"I have, actually," Rabastan admitted without blushing, grinning widely in response, "Been thinking about how I'm going to make you scream, actually. It's rare that anyone withstands the Dark Lord's torture without screaming."

"And now you want to see if you can torture me to such undignified sounds?" Hermione asked archly.

"Not with the Cruciatus curse," he smirked in reply.

"And just what makes you think I'd be receptive to such sexual advances, Lord Lestrange?"

He just kept grinning at her and Hermione very deliberately held his gaze while she nipped Draco's neck again.

"Keep that up and you better be receptive my sexual advances, Mina," Draco warned her, his voice turning husky.

Hermione chuckled throatily and nipped him again. She felt wicked and naughty and the Bad wolf inside her was entirely too promiscuous for anyone's good. The fact that she'd already decided that she was going to shag both of these wizards lit a fire of expectation and desire in her belly. The sight of the pair of them disrobed and eager to have at her wasn't helping things and her blood began to bubble stickily with need.

She also recalled what Snape had said about the Dark Lord's intention of seeing pure bloodlines continued and she didn't have to be a genius to know that Rabastan intended to see her wedded to him and bearing his heir. The idea made her skin crawl, but not because she wasn't interested in shagging him. However, the notion of reproducing at all unsettled her and she really needed to talk to Snape. She couldn't keep this up if she was going to be expected to marry and have babies. She was much too young, blast it all. These people even believed she was sixteen, rather than almost eighteen, but the fact remained that the very last thing she ever wanted to do was have children with any of the Death Eaters.

She'd faked her death once already as Hermione Granger. Maybe she could do it again as Mina Graziana-Snape - if it came down to that.

"Aren't I always?" she purred to Draco, recalling the potion she'd taken to prevent conception.

"Yes," Draco replied and Hermione could tell the idea pleased him, "Care to share your thoughts on the announcement of the Dark Lord's plans to see us all shooting out heirs, Rabastan?"

Rabastan eyed the two of them with intrigue and Hermione was all the more curious about him when she didn't detect any hint of jealousy from him over the way she was cuddling Draco or over discussion of their intent to shag. He didn't look like he minded in the slightest that they were shagging - or would be very soon. In fact he looked kind of like he approved.

"The continuation of pure bloodlines is important," Rabastan replied, "Especially yours, Pup. You're the only heir to the Malfoy bloodline and though you don't like hearing it, you have been tainted by your condition. It might be important to see such lines proliferating, what with the number of tragedies befalling us all."

"Excited about being an uncle then?" Hermione asked, watching the dark haired wizard with interest.

"Merlin, no," Rabastan admitted, "Not with that crazy bitch for the poor kid's mother. If Rodolphus can't keep the kid away from her, it'll be doomed."

"And here I'd been led to believe that you, your brother and Bellatrix were all so close," Hermione said quietly, "Weren't you all incarcerated and sentenced together?"

"Snape's been filling you in on all of us, then?" Rabastan grinned.

"It wouldn't do to be uninformed about my brethren," Hermione retorted.

"And yet we know so little about you."

"Feeling at a disadvantage?" Hermione teased.

"Yes," Draco answered for him.

Hermione grinned at the idea of being an enigma to them, titillated by the very thought. The less they knew about her, the better. She had too much to memorise about this role she played and no clue of how much they knew of the girl she had been before she took on the disguise and the persona of Mina Graziana-Snape.

Rather than offering any information about herself, Hermione disentangled herself from Draco's back and floated on her back to paddle away from the pair of them. She began to hum the tune of one of her favourite Beatles songs, " _Blackbird_ ", softly to herself as she did so, giving the impression of being lost in thought. She was acutely aware of both wizards even as Rabastan challenged Draco to see who could do the coolest trick from the high-dive board at the far end of the pool.

"You're on," Draco smirked, "I can recover from just about any ailment, Bass. You don't stand a chance."

"We'll see," Rabastan retorted, sounding more like a competitive teenage boy than a grown man.

Hermione marvelled at the pair of them, watching them as they both swam for the pool edge and then raced for the ladder to the diving board. They seemed so... normal. She just knew that if Harry and Ron were there with her instead, they'd be doing the same thing. They'd be challenging each other and goofing off. Being idiots. Or they would if not for being in Malfoy Manor with the potential to murder Voldemort. As she watched the two of them throwing themselves off the diving platform and attempting to perform all manner of stunts, Hermione realised something terrible and flawing.

They were Death Eaters and Dark wizards. But they were also entirely normal. Entirely human.

She didn't know what to do with that information. She'd rationalized it on Snape's behalf when she'd learned he was so normal under everything, but the notion that bad people could still seem so similar to good people in many regards unsettled her greatly. How could that be so? Rabastan was evil. He'd been charged with a long list of crimes when he'd been incarcerated. And yet here he was, laughing with Draco and goofing off like a teenager. As though he weren't a murderer. As though he had never tortured anyone into madness. Had never raped anyone or kidnapped anyone or any of those other vile things.

How could she rationalise that?

When bad people did bad things, it was easy to think of them as criminal masterminds, always playing the villain. Always plotting and doing evil deeds. All her life when she thought of people like the Lestrange's, Hermione had believed they were always involved in evil undertakings. The same went for Voldemort. In her mind they were the villains and therefore were always engaging in wickedness, doing bad things and otherwise being terrible and Dark.

Until this very moment, she'd managed to forget that evil or not, they still had feelings and spent their downtime doing whatever they felt like. The idea that the Dark Lord sometimes slept unnerved her entirely. Hermione hauled herself out of the pool to sit on the edge in her underwear, dripping wet as she watched Draco Malfoy and Rabastan Lestrange dive bombing into the water. They were... just people.

Her head spun at the very idea.


	15. Chapter 15: Conversation

**A/N: Are you ready? I don't think you're ready for this. 8k words of fun coming your way.**

* * *

 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 15: Conversation**

* * *

 _... "I've lost the grip on where I've started from,_

 _I wish I'd though ahead and left a few crumbs,_

 _I'm on the hunt for who I've not yet become,_

 _but I'd settle for a little equilibrium"..._

\- **Hercules (Sara Bareilles)**

* * *

"Mina?" Severus Snape's voice asked from somewhere behind her and Hermione turned to look at him. He towered over her, dressed all in black and looking decidedly wicked himself. Hermione kind of hated the way she could see the dark and cruel wizard he was, in addition to seeing the man who'd held her so tightly when she'd cried for her mother; and also the man who'd ravished her so well.

"Papa?" she asked, staring up at him and making sure to maintain their charade.

"You wanted to speak with me before I left?" he reminded her and Hermione wondered how long she'd been sitting there pondering her wayward thoughts and her epiphanies. She'd almost forgotten that she did indeed need to speak with him about what she'd learned at dinner that very evening.

"Oh. Yes. I did," Hermione said, jolting slightly before hauling herself to her feet. She grabbed up her wand and dried herself quickly before pulling her dress back on.

"I assume it's to be a private discussion then?" he drawled, eyeing Draco and Rabastan with a judgemental and slightly amused expression on his face as one of them gave a shout and they both toppled from the high-dive platform, wrestling like children instead of grown men and powerful, dark wizards.

"Yes please," Hermione told him, not wanting Draco's werewolf hearing to catch wind of what she had to say. She didn't want to blow their cover and she was relatively sure she may end up shouting at Snape about just what her mission was and about the notion that he'd kept all mentions of marriage and the Dark Lord's plans from her.

"Follow me then," Snape said, offering her his arm.

"Are you coming back Mina?" Draco called after her as she let Snape lead her towards the exit.

"I'll meet you in your bedroom, if you like?" Hermione smirked over her shoulder at him, noticing that both he and Rabastan were now in the water and watching her leave with expressions on their faces that suggested they would very much like to get her naked and have their way with her.

An entirely wolfish expression crossed Draco's face and he smirked wickedly in return, nodding his head in agreement with her offer before Hermione disappeared.

"You're going to get yourself into trouble with those two. You ought to be careful," Snape cautioned her again as he led her down the hall and into what looked like an empty music room. He warded it quickly to ensure their privacy.

"You mean like wind up pregnant or married kinds of trouble?" Hermione retorted when he turned to face her, "Maybe you'd like to explain why you sent me off to see the Order when you could have been informing me that the Dark Lord means to wed us all off like a bloody matching-making service? I didn't sign up for this bollocks, Snape!"

"Had I informed you," he retorted slowly, "You'd have looked less surprised to hear the news about the Dark Lord plans. Contrary to popular belief, Miss Granger, I do not have the Dark Lord's trust as a result of blabbing every conversation I share with him to my underlings without first being given permission by the Dark Lord to do so. Had you known about it, Rabastan would have informed the Dark Lord that I had mentioned it to you and my loyalty to the Dark Lord would have been called into question."

He glared down his hooked nose at her for a moment over her impertinence and Hermione felt her mouth drop open in shock when she realised that literally everything these people did was constantly being monitored by the others.

"That's why Rabastan made a point of mentioning that he'd had a discussion about his impending nuptials with the Dark Lord. To let you know that he knew about it all and was watching us," she said, her eyes wide as she stared at him, "I thought he was just trying to be creepy with me and hint at the idea of trying to convince the Dar Lord to make me marry him."

"You're new to this game, Mina," Snape smiled at her and it was a mixture of cruelty and smug amusement that made her narrow her eyes at him in annoyance for being so patronising, "Everything you do, everything you say and everything you know is constantly being monitored. Did you imagine the Dark Lord would welcome a loose and unknown cannon into his faithful brethren so quickly without keeping constant tabs on you? From here on out, you won't be able to scratch your nose without the Dark Lord hearing about it, excepting when you are completely alone with me."

"Then what were you doing sending me to the Order?" Hermione demanded in a tight whisper, "I could have been followed! I could have been seen. I landed outside of the wards and crossed them. If there was someone watching the Burrow, I'd have been caught."

"Yes, you would have," Snape retorted, "Which is why I have no intention of allowing you to return there. I sent you there for only one reason, Mina. What was it?"

He was testing her?

Hermione fingered her wand as she eyed the man coldly, utterly furious with him. She didn't have to be a genius to realise what the correct answer to his test was. He hadn't sent her there, as she'd initially believed, to gather information on the Order or to provide them with information about the Dark Lord – though she knew he'd known she would do so. He also hadn't sent her there out of the goodness of his heart to provide Ron and Remus the Wolfsbane she had delivered. The cold finger of horror slipped down the length of her spine as she realised what he'd hoped to achieve by sending her to the Order one last time.

"You sent me there to crush any hope I had left of ever returning to my friends' sides, even after this war is over," Hermione said quietly, eyeing him and thinking seriously about hexing him for spite, "To ensure I would know how it feels to be in their presence after the things I have done and the things I have seen. You wanted me to feel that uncomfortable, unwelcome sense of being in their presence when they are still so innocent and so good while I bear this stain of darkness upon my soul. You wanted to make sure that I would continue to make all kinds of sacrifices towards this cause you have me working - without the constant mess of my moral dilemma over what they will think of me."

His cruel smile grew wider and Hermione knew she had the right answer. She'd seen that expression on his face a thousand times in his classes when she gave a right answer and he had no intention of rewarding her for it. She'd never hated being right about anything until that very moment.

"What did you wish to speak to me about?" he asked, changing the subject and Hermione glared at him hatefully, feeling the irrational urge to pummel him with her bare hands for hurting her this way.

"Oh I don't know," she bit out, "Maybe you'd care to fill me in on the details about the notion of the Dark Lord playing match-maker?"

"What do you wish to know?" he asked coldly in return, clearly not pleased with her for her attitude even when he'd put her in this foul mood in the first place, "The Dark Lord means to ensure that the next generation of his followers are secure, by any means necessary."

"Meaning?"

Snape stared at her as though he believed her to be thick as a lump of wood.

"Tell me, Mina, what Harry Potter's mission is at this moment?" he asked instead of answering and Hermione frowned at him.

"You already know the answer to that," she said, gripping her wand tighter in case he was in imposter, ready to cast a Killing Curse if he was someone masquerading as Snape.

"Horcrux location and destruction," Snape nodded, putting her mind at ease about his potential imposter status, "Now do share with the class why it is so important that the Horcruxes be destroyed, Miss Granger."

"Because otherwise the Dark Lord can't be... Oh, I see," Hermione said, blushing at her own idiocy for not realising sooner.

Lord Voldemort was playing match-maker and ensuring all his followers had children to guarantee that he would continue to have an army in the years to come - when the current followers grew older and frailer. He intended to be immortal and had taken every known step to ensure his immortality. Now he needed to make sure he would have followers and lackeys for all of that time.

"How many children does he intend to milk out of his Death Eaters?" she asked quietly, "And how long have you known about this plan?"

Snape smirked at her, clearly pleased that she'd worked out the answer but still amused that it had taken her this long to come to the correct conclusion. Hermione blamed it on her terror over being wedded off as a breeding sow to the likes of Rabastan Lestrange or some other pureblood.

"The Dark Lord first made mention of the need for his followers to be breeding before the end of the first war," Snape informed her, "It is one of the reasons so few of his branded Death Eaters are female. He does not intend to halve his army by having the women fall pregnant, and they are free to raise the children while their husbands continue to do his bidding."

Her mind reeled with the information and she could feel Snape watching her closely as she began to put the pieces together, including the fact that she'd become a Death Eater, and that he'd had her go to her friends and realise they would never look at her the same way. That information, combined with the notion of weddings and childbearing unsettled her greatly and she suspected Snape intended to inform her she would have to play along with this part of being a Death Eater as well.

Narrowing her eyes on him suddenly, Hermione stared into Severus Snape's harsh features suspiciously.

"It wasn't by coincidence that you were the one hunting me that day, was it Snape?" she asked him quietly, "It wasn't by mistake that I believed you about being on the Order's side. It wasn't by mistake that I agreed to this wild idea of becoming a Death Eater to dismantle the Dark Lord's ranks from within."

He continued to hold her gaze, wearing an expression that Hermione knew would cause most people to wet their pants and shrink back from him in fear. She did neither of those things, instead she simply clutched her wand a little tighter, ignoring the way her heart hammered unnecessarily fast inside her chest and the clammy feel of her hands.

"It was by design," he replied in that silky tone of voice she'd heard him use when placating the Dark Lord. Nausea rolled through her and Hermione thought she might be sick.

"Whose design?" she wanted to know, whispering now, "Yours?"

Snape's expression never changed.

"Dumbledore's. It was Dumbledore's idea," he admitted, his dark eyed gazed darting over her face carefully as though she were as easy for him to read as any book he might pick up and peruse at leisure.

"But I've heard Dumbledore's Will and Testament," Hermione protested, "I've heard everything he told Harry. I'm supposed to help track down the Horcruxes. That's what he wanted me to do. He wanted me to help Harry end this war."

"No, Hermione," Snape replied quietly, "He never intended to have you gallivanting about the countryside with Potter. You were kept in the loop only long enough to ensure Potter knew what the Horcuxes were and how he could go about destroying them. You are wasted within the very heart of the Order, trailing after the likes of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. You are too logical. Too clinical. Too bright. Too powerful a witch to be wasted running after dark artefacts. You have a far greater purpose in the plots Dumbledore laid before his death."

"He meant for you to help me fake my death?" Hermione asked, feeling slightly dizzy, his praise of her character barely registering as she tried to make sense of what he was telling her, "He... but he gave me the Tales of Beedle Bard – wanting me to figure things about the Elder wand and the…"

"That was part of your task, yes," Snape nodded, "But not all of it. Like the three Brothers story you read, each of you has a purpose. A part to play in the times to come before greeting death. Three brothers-in-arms. Three friends. Separate destinies, interwoven just enough to fool everyone."

Hermione frowned at him in confusion, wondering what he meant by that and what he believed her destiny to be.

"Do you imagine I'm the type of man who cares about appearance enough to brew a potion that smooths away every imperfection a person has - thereby hiding the identity of the drinker?" Snape asked her quietly, his intense gaze never wavering from her face, "Do you imagine I've enough interest in werewolves to brew a potion that protects against lycanthropy and every other disease known to the wizarding world on a whim?"

She was going to be ill, she was sure of it.

"He wanted me here - doing all of this?" Hermione asked, frowning at him, trying to understand what he was saying, "Dumbledore wanted me to be a Death Eater?"

"How do you think you'll get into the Lestrange vault to get the cup of Helga Hufflepuff if not through access to it via Rabastan?" Snape purred at her dangerously, "How can you help Potter by running after him in a tent for months on end? This war is so much bigger than one boy prophesized to murder the Dark Lord, Miss Granger. Did you imagine it was all just about precious Harry Potter and the fact that he must be the one to wield the wand and do the final deed? Our job is to keep Potter alive long enough to ensure he can do so. Our job is to make sure we know the Dark Lord's plans and can intervene in whatever way necessary to ensure Potter lives that long. Did you imagine that you, Weasley and Potter would be able to break into Gringott's on your own - into one of the most highly protected and oldest vaults of the wizarding world - for the sake of a gold cup? There are wards and magics stronger than you know guarding that Horcrux."

 _Oh sweet Merlin,_ Hermione swayed woozily. It couldn't be true. Surely it couldn't be true.

"He means for me to..." she muttered, "He... But Dumbledore was a good person. He... he would never expect me to... no."

Snape curled his lip at her as though he believed her so stupid she ought to be killed for it.

"Albus Dumbledore was many things, Hermione," Snape informed her coldly, "Ruthless. Cunning. Powerful. You saw only the sides of him that he wished to share with you and Potter to ensure you would do as you were told and believe in his cause."

"He started the Order - he... he fought dark wizards."

"He did. Now tell me, Miss Granger, do you imagine a man who knew he was dying - who banked on having me murder him by the end of your sixth year - would not have had sufficient time to share everything with Potter that he needed to know? Do you actually believe he didn't keep Potter in the dark on purpose? We are all pawns, Miss Granger. Pieces upon the board in his chess game against the Dark Lord. Cogs in the machine of war he means to use to bring about the Dark Lord's demise. He has known for certain since your fourth year that Potter was unknowingly a Horcrux. He has known since then that Potter would have to willingly go before the Dark Lord to die. Harry Potter was raised for slaughter. Ron Weasley was raised to become a werewolf. Do not fall victim to the idea that any of this happened by chance, Hermione."

"But..." Hermione felt like she had been set adrift in a world of confusion.

"But nothing. Weasley was bitten because Fenrir Greyback means to overthrow the Ministry - and the Dark Lord too, if he can. He, Lupin and Draco are the cogs that will bring the pack down. Lupin knows this much. Why do you think he has resisted so hard to the idea of marrying Tonks? He knows his task. He knows he must train Weasley to be a werewolf who can resist the power of the pack Alpha. Weasley will bring down the threat Greyback's pack poses. Potter will bring down as many Horcuxes as he can whilst also staying safe and alive long enough to aim the final Killing curse at the Dark Lord. And you will help me bring down the Death Eater ranks from the inside."

Hermione's knees gave out beneath her as the proverbial rug was pulled from under her; the wool removed from her eyes.

 _Everything she'd ever known was a lie._

"Dumbledore condoned the notion of you fucking me?" she asked when her temper began to flare, the ruthless Bad wolf inside her rising up - pulling Mina to the surface as Hermione's good wolf took several dizzying blows.

"That was your idea," Snape informed her, his dark eyes never wavering from her face, those black pools boring into her and threatening to suck her under like a terrible storm far out at sea, "Dumbledore had no intention of such things. _You_ initiated the lessons on sexual intimacy between the two of us. _You_ requested that I prepare you for everything that would be required of you as a Death Eater. You. I assume Dumbledore believed you to be more experienced than you were. You have, after all, kept mostly male company throughout your teenage years."

"You all thought I was a whore?" Hermione asked coldly.

"Not a whore," he shrugged unrepentantly, "But it was certainly believed that you'd shagged more men than Ron Weasley. And certainly more than once."

Hermione thought about hexing him again, the Mina in her willing to do whatever necessary to fix this show of weakness. Climbing back to her feet, Hermione braced her legs apart and crossed her arms over her chest, staring at Snape defiantly.

"You knew I would suggest honey potting myself with Malfoy and Lestrange and whoever else I see fit?" Hermione accused, "You knew I would play into Dumbledore's plan to have the ranks brought down from within."

"You have a role to play. You are logical. It stands to reason you would seek to endear them to you by whatever means necessary if they can be brought down from the inside," Snape retorted.

"What does this mean for me?" Hermione asked him, "Rabastan's pointed looks suggest that he means to marry me, if he can. I assume that your comments regarding the Lestrange vault mean that only a Lestrange can enter there and touch the treasure?"

Snape smirked then and Hermione could tell it was with wicked amusement and happiness at her realising what was required of her. She thought about hexing him again, the darkness inside of her swelling and surging hatefully.

"You want me to marry him?" she asked, baffled, "Not five days ago you warned me away from him. Bloody hell, this morning you warned me away from him! You told me to be careful because he was trouble and he was the person you believe is most likely to make me lose focus on my mission."

"And you stubbornly disagreed. You insisted that you could handle this," Snape reminded her, "Do not make the mistake of believing that I know so little about your nature that I have allowed you to swan around as you have without first pre-empting what I expected you would do, Mina."

Hermione gritted her teeth, realising that in addition to playing everyone else, Snape had been playing her too. He'd been using her, pushing her where she needed it, warning her away where she might otherwise have balked, intent on using her Gryffindor rashness to his advantage.

"You've been keeping all this from me until I was in over my head and would have no choice but to go along with it, haven't you?" Hermione accused

"You've been making the mistake of believing that anything or anyone is more important than seeing an end to the Dark Lord's immortality and his reign of terror," Snape retorted coldly, unrepentant over his actions and the pain he had caused her with this betrayal of her trust.

Hermione felt like he'd punched her in the stomach but she refused to let it show. She would do this. She would shoulder the responsibility of doing what she had to in order to see the Dark Lord destroyed. She would do as she must in order to decimate his forces. She would do whatever was necessary to gain access to the Horcrux locked in the Lestrange vault so that it could be demolished.

She had no choice now.

Snape was right. She'd seen Ron's face that very morning at the Burrow. He would never forgive her for how she would be sleeping with Death Eaters. He would never take her back. He would never be able to look past the idea of her climbing into bed with one or both of the werewolves who had infected him with lycanthropy. He would never be able to looed past the dark skull and snake blemish on her inner left forearm. And Harry might not survive this war. For all she knew, she wouldn't either. She was, as Snape had said, just a pawn in a much bigger game. She had simply believed up until now that hers was a different role. That she was a different piece on the chess board.

"The potion you gave me to prevent me from ovulating," Hermione said, eyeing him, "What was the purpose of that if you intend to see me married to Rabastan and bearing his children?"

"We cannot risk having you fall pregnant until you are married to him, for one," Snape replied, "And not until you have finished this year of schooling and the Dark Lord believes you to have turned seventeen. Until then, when giving the others a dose of the Fertility Potion like I gave Bella, you will continue to be given the Contraception potion I brewed."

"But you do mean for me to marry Rabastan?" Hermione asked, nodding in relief to know she would have some time, at the very least, before she might have to go bearing children for any of these wicked men. Perhaps she might be able to destroy the Horcrux and see the war ended before that had to happen.

"What about Draco?"

Snape's mouth twisted ever so slightly into a tight frown at her mention of Draco.

"As cruel as Bella's words were at dinner, they were not incorrect. The Dark Lord means to demand that Lucius and Narcissa produce another child - or to attempt to - in order to ensure the Malfoy bloodline is pure and untainted by lycanthropy."

"Does the Dark Lord ever mean to have it discovered that he is a half-blood?" Hermione asked, feeling a flare of anger on Draco's behalf at the very idea that he would be potentially cut off from his inheritance by the very man who'd insisted be become a werewolf in the first place.

Snape's cruel smile flashed at her again.

"You would do very well to keep that to yourself, Mina. However, as was mentioned at dinner, the Dark Lord means for all his followers of any blood status to reproduce with anyone else - even muggleborns at the revels. Muggles are the only exception. They are not to be 'mated with', as he calls it. Any magical offspring from here on out is to be acknowledged and claimed by his followers. To be raised as though they were purebloods and to be trained to be his army."

"He's literally fleshing out the ranks and he doesn't care where the children come from?" Hermione asked incredulously, "Won't that poke a hole in his mess with the blood prejudice?"

"It is meant to," Snape told her, "He began with blood prejudice to get the pureblood families on board with him. They have the most money to fund his cause. He needed their support. Now that he has them all by their neckties, and has the Ministry well in hand, he does not need to pander only to them. He will continue to prosecute mudbloods and he intends to continue murdering muggles. However - what very few of his followers currently know is that the mudblood females will essentially be treated like brood mares. He has removed the Dementors from Azkaban prison and instead means to use the prison as a holding cell where muggleborn witches will be kept pregnant at all times. When the children are born they will be removed from their mothers and placed in the care of whomever sired them."

"Who does he intend to have knocking them up?" Hermione asked, utterly horrified.

"The Death Eaters. The Pack. Whoever he likes," Snape shrugged his bony shoulders, "What he needs now are bodies and if he gets them from birth, they will be more loyal to the cause as it will be all they know."

Hermione felt her blood begin to boil with indignation and fury.

"This is why you needed to fake my death?" Hermione asked, suddenly recalling that she was a mudblood who might've otherwise been hunted and used as a brood mare if she'd been caught and it had been known who she was. And given that her face was all over the wanted posters, everyone knew who Hermione Granger was and what she looked like.

"Dumbledore knew of the Dark Lord's plan to turn mudblood witches into little more than incubators, yes. He knew that if you were caught once the idea had been instigated, you would be highly sought after by every Death Eater and you would suffer a fate worse than death in those cells. The mudblood witch who has been Harry Potters' friend and confidant? The girl who helped foil things at the Department of Mysteries and got a number of the loyal Death Eaters thrown into prison? You would have been brutalised beyond imagining, Hermione."

"As opposed to what's happening here, where I must consent to being tortured and branded. Where I must consent to group sex. Where I must play the wife to the likes of Lestrange and raise his children," she replied dryly.

"Not just Lestrange," Snape told her very quietly, moving towards her until he stood directly in front of her.

Hermione frowned in confusion. He stood close enough that she could smell the peppermint and smoke scent of him. That she had to tip her head back to hold his dark-eyed gaze.

"There is a reason no one objected to your interactions with Draco at dinner. He is no longer suitable as a husband for some pure-blooded princess who will keep the old families in line and keep the bloodlines pure. As a werewolf he has little use to the Dark Lord as a Death Eater - especially given his failures. His loyalty is torn between the Dark Lord, his Alpha and his parents. But he still has his uses. The Dark Lord means to wed you to both of them. To Draco and to Rabastan."

"But that's illegal. Polygamy is illegal," Hermione sputtered indignantly, shocked beyond belief at the very idea.

"Not when the Dark Lord controls the Ministry. You will be expected to wed them both and to bear both of them children, Mina," Snape told her quietly and Hermione flinched slightly when he brought his hands up to cup her cheeks as though he could sense the way her mind threatened to shatter into a millions pieces over the very idea.

In any other situation the touch might have been comforting and even endearing. Now, it felt more like a cage he was crafting for her. A cage where she would be bound in matrimony and parenthood with not just one, but two Death Eaters from pure families. She might've decided to tolerate Draco to better use him for her own ends, but she didn't want to _marry_ him. She didn't want to bear his children.

"But I'm not a pureblood," Hermione protested, "Shouldn't Rabastan be marrying for the continuation of the pure bloodlines remaining pure. If they believe Draco to be tainted by his curse, then it makes sense to have him marry someone believed to be of half-blood status. But what about Rabastan? Why have him breed with a half-blood?"

Snape's gaze softened ever so slightly as he stared down into her eyes while he cupped her cheeks almost fondly. Hermione would never have noticed the softening if she hadn't spent so much time in such close quarters with him recently. She'd never have believed him capable of feeling sympathetic for anyone – least of all her. But as she stared back at him, trying to fight down her panic and trying to resist the urge to abandon every Gryffindor notion and run like hell, Hermione knew he was indeed sympathetic to her.

"You already know the answer to that, Mina," he told her softly, his thumb brushing along her lower lip in a way that might've been affectionate, were he anyone else.

Hermione wracked her brain, trying to think of the reason.

"Rabastan is the second born son," she whispered, "And Rodolphus already made a match of pure lineage. Rabastan has more leeway. And if the ranks are to be fleshed out with people not of insane, deformed or imbecilic nature, such close blood ties as the purebloods have already practiced must be eradicated. They are all too closely related. The insanity already shows through with people like Bellatrix. And the stupidity shows with the likes of the Goyles and the Crabbes. Without an influx of fresh blood from half-bloods, the lines will become too convoluted and the families too inbred to be of use to the Dark Lord."

Snape nodded once, his thumb trailing back and forth along her lower lip as she spoke. Hermione knew he was doing it in an attempt to distract her from the way her mind was threatening to close down. To shut off for the evening with this overload of information and this utter tilt of her world upon its axis.

"And with the Dark Lord insisting that every magical child born to any Death Eater be recognised as 'pureblood' then the lines will essentially be saved that fate. He's… do they know he's doing them the strangest of favours?" Hermione asked, blinking slowly as her brain tried to catch up with everything she was learning, working to file away the information and better look at this situation logically and clinically rather than emotionally.

"They have no idea and many will lament having to do so."

"I'm expected to commit polygamy with Draco and Rabastan?" Hermione asked him, frowning into his face and finding that sometime during the past few days she'd grown rather fond of his harsh features.

Hermione couldn't quantify exactly what category the fondness fell into. She knew it wasn't one of love for him. Nor would she say she counted him as a friend or a father-figure, nor even as a lover. He was… all of them at once and yet none of them at the same time. She didn't want to think about it too closely. The fact was that he was first and foremost her instructor – guiding her through the necessary steps to survive Dumbledore's plan for her.

"You are. Can you do it?" he asked her seriously.

Hermione wondered what he would do to her if she said no. Would he kill her off now? Would he modify her memory? Place her under the Imperius curse? She didn't know. She also didn't know if she could do it. Shagging them was one thing. She could look at sex logically and separate it from emotion. Marriage was another.

"I was already intending to be shagging both of them," Hermione whispered, focusing on the feel of his thumb tracing her lips and his strong fingers cupping her cheeks carefully, yet firmly.

"Shagging and marriage are different," he pointed out unhelpfully.

"They don't have to be," Hermione replied slowly, her mind beginning to whirl with ideas as she came to terms with the news, "I merely have to do what I already intended to do. I have to make them fall for me. Both of them. And not just in the sense of having them endeared to me to better gain access to their secrets and better sway them from the cause. I have to make them fall so hard for me that they would turn on the Dark Lord for me."

"How are you going to do that?" Snape wanted to know.

"I'm to be the mother of their children. I'm to be their wife," Hermione said, her gaze darting between both of his deep, dark eyes, "I'm to spend my days and nights with them. I will simply show them that though this match is of the Dark Lord's suggestion, it does not simply have to be about doing our duty…. I will win them over the ways I already intended, only so much more insidiously."

Snape held her gaze.

"Are you sure you can do it, Mina?" he asked her, "I'm not doubting your ability to shag them, or to sign a legal document binding you to them both. I'm not even doubting your ability to bear them children. But I need to know you can do all of this without losing your emotional detachment. You have been shagging me without getting invested. You have been clinical. Can you feign emotional interest in both of them without actually growing attached?"

Hermione pondered it carefully.

"I don't know. I think so. Will you help me?" Hermione asked, knowing that continued Occlumency training would help her to compartmentalise and better separate sex and marriage from love and to separate lust from attraction.

Something flickered in his dark gaze as he stared into her eyes from so close and Hermione couldn't even name it, let alone explain it. She needed his help. If she was going to master this balancing act, she needed to be able to count on something. And she knew it couldn't simply be herself. She could rely on herself, but she was literally tearing her soul apart – separating Hermione from Mina.

"I will help you, Hermione," Snape promised, "I will teach you everything that Mina needs to know to complete this assignment. And I will do what I can to keep you from sacrificing all of Hermione Granger to the cause."

Hermione nodded her head, unexpectedly feeling her eyes fill with tears at his solemn promise.

"How long do I have to adjust to this news?" Hermione asked him seriously, blinking at him.

"The Dark Lord believes you will soon be seventeen. I believe he will allow you and Draco to complete your education this year before insisting you marry. He needs some more time to allow for the uproar that will follow the announcement that his followers all begin popping out more children. Especially since many – like Lucius and Narcissa – will be doing so when they already have adult-aged children of their own. That they are expected to provide a more appropriate heir while Draco is expected to begin breeding will upset them. The notion of doing away with strict pureblood births will be another battle he will wage. Especially when he means to continue to wed purebloods to one another, while expecting them all to screw around and raise any children they conceive – no who with – as their own offspring. Things at the Ministry will also have to be settled to allow for polygamy to even be legalised to pull it off."

"Is it only me who will be expected to marry more than one person?" Hermione asked curiously.

"No, I imagine there will be others. The Dark Lord intends to see everyone of pure birth wedded. He doesn't care so much about half-bloods."

"What about the notions that giving everyone fertility potions and then holding a revel will mean they impregnate women not their intended wives?" Hermione frowned, trying to make sense of the plan."

"Every child conceived of Death Eater essence will be removed from whichever mother bears them. Meaning that if, for example, Draco married you and then fucked a brat into… I don't know, Lavender Brown – that child would be removed from the witch and given to Draco to raise. But since he is a marked Death Eater who has better uses for the Dark Lord's cause, the brat would be given to you – as his wife - to raise."

"If I marry them I'll be expected to raise any of their children, even if those children are not born to me?" Hermione asked, horrified and not at all liking the idea of raising the likes of Lavender's kids.

"Yes. Do your job well enough, Mina, and you will not have to raise any but children born of your womb," Snape cautioned her.

"You expect me to convince them to be faithful to me, when I won't be being faithful to them?" Hermione asked, baffled.

"Yes," he nodded his head, "And I know how you're going to do it."

"Oh?" Hermione asked.

"The potions I've given you – namely the one to alter your personal scent – also have other effects…" he told her carefully, "They alter you on a chemical level. Combining that with the potion I gave you to change your appearance and improve the way you look had other, unexpected effects."

"Explaining why I can sing better than I used to," Hermione nodded her head.

"It will also have altered the way you taste," he said, his mouth twisting slightly before his gaze flicked downwards towards what she had hiding under her dress.

"Are you saying it…" Hermione trailed off, raising one eyebrow at her.

"Made you pussy taste like ambrosia, yes," he smirked wickedly at her for a moment.

"Um…" Hermione said, unsure what to make of that idea.

"As long as you give them no reason to be fucking anyone else, they will not do so except on the Dark Lord's express orders. Not once they taste you. Especially Draco. The werewolf in him will be a problem, actually. I imagine that you might be hard pressed to keep his tongue from between your legs for any extended period of time once you begin shagging him."

Hermione wrinkled her nose at the idea. Not that she was horrified. She'd always been squirrelly in the past about her lady parts, concerned over scent, taste and appearance. Snape had essentially taken out the guesswork and made it so that she didn't have to worry about offending anyone's noses or tastebuds or eyes. The idea of having a pussy men were addicted to even kind of titillated her.

"You believe this based on your personal experience with the subject matter?" Hermione asked cheekily, dark humour rolling through her once more. She almost clapped her hand over her mouth in horror over her outburst before recalling this was Snape and that he had an even more twisted sense of humour than she did.

Snape smirked at her wickedly in response but didn't confirm or deny the suggestion.

"Looking as you do and tasting as you do, the two of them should be sufficiently addicted to you rather quickly," he drawled, "And as long as you are willing to fuck them often, they will feel no need to stray. I suggest avoiding further delay with the idea of seducing the pair of them."

Hermione nodded her head as Snape pulled away from her, dropping his hands from her face and stepping back from her.

"Does me fucking them put an end to our lessons?" she asked him.

"I have far too much to teach you to cease now," he replied, and Hermione was surprised and amused by the gaze he raked over her as he looked at her. It made her feel like an odd mix of being his protégée, his daughter, his student and his lover all in one. Which she supposed she kind of was. Figuratively.

"What did you have planned for the rest of the evening?" Hermione asked him, an idea suddenly occurring to her.

"You can't fuck me now if you're intending to meet Draco in his bedroom, Mina," Snape smirked at her and the expression he wore took years off his stern, harsh face, making him look young and cocky as though he were twenty-one instead of thirty-seven.

"Good thing I wasn't asking you to fuck me right now then, isn't it?" she quipped in return, "I only meant to find out what you have planned tonight. You can't go home."

He frowned at her slightly.

"When I was with the Order, Harry and Ron mentioned that tomorrow their acts of retribution for robbing them of Hermione Granger will be taking place. You need to make sure you're seen in company until after whatever they have planned takes place," Hermione told him.

His expression cleared.

"I don't suppose they told you what they had planned?" he asked.

"No," Hermione shook her head, "They just said I'd see soon enough or hear about it. But having an alibi seems like a good idea. Just in case."

He nodded in understanding, smirking at her again as though she amused him. Hermione wondered if that was a good thing.

"I'll show you to Draco's room," he said rather than elaborating or explaining just what it would be that he intended to do to ensure he had an alibi for the evening.

Hermione thought about asking him to explain, but there was little point. Snape wasn't the type of man who answered to the likes of her, no matter how he might be currently masquerading as her guardian angel all dressed in black. Instead of demanding more answers, Hermione simply nodded in agreement, butterflies fluttering in her stomach at the idea of meeting with Draco for the purpose of shagging him.

Indecision warred within her, tipping between the pros and cons of the venture in the face of learning that her mission was now to include seducing both Draco and Rabastan for the sake of this role she played. The Good wolf within her riled and snarled against her chains at the very idea of entertaining marriage to anyone other than Ron – determined not to hurt her red-haired ex-boyfriend any worse than she already had. The Bad wolf inside her snarled back much more ferociously and Hermione felt little parts of her begin to shatter with the idea that even if she were to walk away from the mission and everything else right this very second, she had already done too much for Ron to ever love her or take her back in the same way.

Snape's experiment earlier that very afternoon had proved it. She had nothing left to lose. Sure, she could pay the price of her own life. And sure the Order and her friends could still be harmed, but she couldn't do any more that would drive them further from her than she already had. She'd made it clear that she had done and would continue to do egregious and unforgiveable things. They would of course continue to be horrified, but the fact was that she wasn't the same little girl she'd been before Snape caught her.

Her innocence was peeling away like the paint in her room peeled from the ceiling in Spinners End. What difference would it make to shag Draco, Rabastan and just about anybody else when Ron wouldn't forgive her either way? For that matter, what point was there in worrying what anyone thought of her or how she acted in this capacity as Mina?

They couldn't take Ron's love from her again and though it pained her to think it, she knew that Harry and her other friends wouldn't forgive her at the end of this.

As Hermione looked over at Snape where he'd turned and begun heading for the door, intent on delivering her to Draco Malfoy's bedroom, she suddenly understood what he'd meant when he'd spoken of not wanting to see the light at the other end of this dark tunnel they travelled. How could things ever go back to the way they were before? More importantly, when this was all over; when Voldemort was vanquished and all the Death Eater were rounded up, imprisoned or killed; what hope was there of ever living a normal life again?

How could she do it?

For all she knew she'd wind up dead at the hands of the Order. She might be arrested and imprisoned for the crimes she committed as Mina Graziana-Snape. Even if she did know the way back to being Hermione Granger by the time this was through, how did she know she would want to go back to that?

When this was all over, what guarantee did she have that what remained at the other end of the tunnel was worth living for or going back to?


	16. Chapter 16:Gratification

**WARNING: This chapter is not Work Safe. It contains things you most certainly will not want to be caught reading. Take that into account before continuing. And enjoy! xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 16: Gratification**

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 _... "You can touch me with slow hands,_

 _Speed it up, baby make me sweat._

 _Dreamland, take me there 'cause I want your sex,_

 _If my body had a say, I wouldn't turn away,_

 _Touch. Make Love. Taste You" ..._

- **Body Say (Demi Lovato)**

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She picked her way into his bedroom carefully when Snape opened the door for her and nodded her inside.

"He's not in here," Snape warned her, "I recommend a shower to warm up while you wait for him. You're shivering."

"Wait, I…" Hermione turned back to the dark-haired wizard to find him watching her with an expression of guarded concern glittering on his face and in his dark eyes.

She wondered how she'd come to know his face well enough in such a short space of time that she could see it where to anyone else – even her – just a week ago that expression would have conveyed only boredom and mild irritation. She could see those things too, but they were designed to mask the little niggle of worry he felt. Hermione wondered if he worried for her personally or just worried over her ability to complete the mission she'd been unknowingly given.

He cocked one eyebrow at her in silent question when Hermione stared at him for a moment. He was right about the fact that she was shivering. She was a bit cold in the big draughty house but mostly it was the nervousness over what she was about to do and the shock to her system to learn that her fate was far grislier than she'd originally imagined it would be going into this.

"I…," Hermione bit her lip, unsure what she wanted to say to him, "Do you…"

He waited while she stammered and tried to gather her thoughts to work out what it was she was even asking him.

"Get in the shower, Mina," Snape commanded quietly, his voice taking on the stern, no-nonsense-tolerated, no-arguments-brooked tone that let her know she had to get herself together and make sure she wasn't going to lose it.

"How do I get back to Spinner's End?" Hermione asked him, locking down the niggling worry and gnawing doubts that had momentarily consumed her over the notion of shagging Draco Malfoy.

"While you were recovering from your initiation into the ranks of our brethren, I added you to the blood wards protecting the property. You will be able to apparate directly into your bedroom whenever you choose," he told her.

Hermione nodded her head.

"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked him in a whisper, watching him as he began pulling the door closed again, intent on leaving her there to shag Malfoy.

"The Dark Lord will be returning sometime late this evening. I believe a chat with Rabastan Lestrange followed by a game of chess might be in order until that time," Snape smirked at her cruelly and Hermione felt an equally cruel smirk arrange itself upon her own features when she realised that a 'chat' with Rabastan might involve a little more than talking and a lot less than fun for the Azkaban escapee.

"Enjoy your evening then," Hermione grinned at him, and Snape nodded.

"You too, Mina," he replied and Hermione could hear the inflection in his voice that reminded her to enjoy it only so much that she was still the one in control of every situation from here on out, excepting when she was in his presence.

He closed the door as he left and Hermione turned her attention to Draco Malfoy's bedroom with intrigue. It was lavishly decorated, as Hermione had always believed it would be. The bed was enormous on the far side of the room, easily bigger than any king-sized bed she'd ever seen. He was neat, if the state of the room was anything to go by, which surprised her a little bit. Hermione was so used to messy boys like Harry and Ron that the notion of a boy who didn't leave dirty socks on the floor or rumpled shirts draped over furniture amused her somewhat.

The room was cold. Lavish, but cold. Not in the sense of temperature either. A hearth fire roared and crackled across the room from the bed, warming the bedroom and bathing it in light. No, it was cold in the way it was decorated. The pictures upon the walls seemed like they didn't belong among the types of things that would interest a teenage boy. There was one wall lined with bookshelves and Hermione could tell at a glance that many of the books in Draco's private collection were dark tomes, both in regard to the texts pertaining to dark magic and the types of fictional pursuits he chose.

Nothing about the room really marked it as belonging to Draco. She could see his Nimbus propped in the corner beyond the bed and the desk under the window was piled with books she knew they'd used in past years at school for assignments. But there was nothing that hinted at any personal interests that Draco entertained. Nothing that hinted at the type of things he liked. Nothing that seemed to matter to him in any capacity. Was it a result of being spoiled and rich that nothing he owned was important to him? Or was it a sign of the deep, psychological issues he must be hiding that she had yet to even delve into?

He'd been made a werewolf against his will. Branded a Death Eater against his will. Not that he hadn't been headed for that path already, Hermione mused, recalling their younger years at Hogwarts and how wretched Draco Malfoy had been. He seemed far removed from that mean-spirited boy now. Not because he'd gotten any nicer. No, his transformation had more to do with fear and self-pity than any growth of character or empathy for those he'd once tormented.

If he knew she were Hermione Granger masquerading as Mina, what might he do? Would he turn her over to Voldemort, ratting out Snape as a liar and a traitor? Would he hurt her? Would he protect her, allowing her to go on with the masquerade?

Hermione didn't know. He'd stated more than once since she'd 'met' him as Mina that he'd thought maybe she was actually who she really was. That she was Hermione Granger in disguise. She wondered if he would have helped her pull this off. She didn't doubt that Draco would turn on the Dark Lord if he could see something in it for himself. If he could save his parents and himself, he would do it. If he could overcome the fear of retribution, that is. Hermione mused too over his possible allegiance to Fenrir Greyback.

She would need to investigate that in greater depth. The notion of even being in Greyback's presence unsettled Hermione and everything she'd read about him and heard about him, he was a wretched monster who needed to be killed for the greater good of all. But according to Malfoy, there was more to him than just the cannibalistic monster. Malfoy had admitted that the werewolf Alpha had done what he could to help Draco, in his own brutal, fucked-up kind of way.

Hermione didn't doubt that giving Draco his share of the lust potion had probably saved Draco's life. Knowing from personal experience with anal sex, she knew it hurt like hell, even when relaxed and comfortable. Even when trusting the partner shagging her, as she had done with Snape, Hermione had felt the way it ached and stung every time he'd moved. To someone who she didn't doubt would have been terrified, uncooperative, tense and fighting, trying to get away, being anally raped would have been utter torture for a sixteen year old boy.

The potion would have helped and by the sounds of it, Greyback had done what little he could to protect Draco from the torment of that agony and from the horror of being unwilling in that moment. Giving Draco his share had bought Fenrir Greyback the attention of Hermione Granger and Mina Graziana-Snape. Why would a monster without conscience try to help a boy he'd bitten only on the order of a master he didn't much care for?

Why would someone without compassion show any to the likes of Malfoy?

She would need to look into it, Hermione decided as she wandered Malfoy's bedroom in search of his en suite. She really did need to get warm. She was shivering and jittery with nervousness over the idea of shagging Malfoy. The idea ought to have sickened her, but it didn't. She'd found in her interactions with him as Mina that he wasn't nearly as bad as the boy she'd gone to Hogwarts with. She would begrudgingly admit that he'd always been attractive, even when they were bitter enemies.

Stripping naked in his bathroom without bothering to close the door, Hermione turned on the taps in his shower and stepped under the warm water, sighing at the feel of it sliding over her cool skin. She didn't really need to bathe. She'd been out in the rain earlier that afternoon and then been swimming earlier. She didn't smell or need to be clean. She just wanted to be warm.

As she stood under the hot water with her eyes closed, Hermione tried to regain her equilibrium. She needed to get it together. The notion of sacrificing her body and her life to this mission was one she was struggling with. She could handle the shagging. She was even coming to terms with the notion of getting married and committing polygamy in the process. After all, she wouldn't be signing her name as Hermione Granger. Just like when she'd made those vows to the Dark Lord during her initiation, she would do so as Mina Graziana-Snape, not Hermione Jean Granger.

She was relatively certain that enough underhanded play could even see the marriages annulled at the end of this if she lived through it since it wouldn't be in her name and when this was all over she would no longer look like Mina, but would look like Hermione once more.

However, the idea of having children for the cause seemed extreme and Hermione didn't know if she could do it. Everything else could be undone. The shagging could be scourigfied from her mind or obliviated from her memory. The marriage could be dissolved. But children could not be un-birthed. That was something she couldn't take back or undo. If she had children with Draco and Rabastan, she would be their mother for the rest of her natural life.

They would be her babies. She would raise them and be their mother. She would conceive them, carry them inside her womb and bring them into this world. How could she do that? That would tie her to Rabastan Lestrange and Draco Malfoy for the rest of her life. Even if they were sent to prison for their crimes should Harry win the war. Even if they were killed in battle or sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss, they would forever more be the fathers of her children.

More importantly, how could she condone the notion of setting such children up for a fatherless existence? If she pulled this off and the war was ended, Rabastan would be sent back to Azkaban at best or sentenced to death at worst. His child or children would have no father. Malfoy was another matter. He was a werewolf and while he couldn't pass on the condition to any children he sired, they would be slightly lupine as any who had contact with werewolves were.

Already Hermione herself was a little lupine thanks to Malfoy's proclivity for biting her. If he somehow managed to avoid prison due to his being underage at the time he was bitten and branded it would be a miracle. How could she bring any child of his into the world, not knowing the type of father he would be? She didn't doubt that at the end of all this, when it was all over and she could stop taking the potion to make herself look like Mina, he would be furious to know he'd shagged the likes of Hermione Granger.

He would most likely disown any children he sired with her, or he would be a pain in the arse and go the other route. Hermione didn't know which would be worse. If she managed to live through this and he walked free, he might get by her betrayal and insist on taking his children from her. Or at the very least he might insist on being part of their lives. Hermione didn't know which. Werewolves were notoriously possessive of those they shagged and of those they cared for.

And her plan was to make him do more than care for her. By the time she was through, Hermione intended to make Rabastan Lestrange and Draco Malfoy love her. She had to make them adore her. She hoped to be able to turn them on their upbringing and their beliefs. How might Malfoy react if he was in love with her and she tried to keep his kids away from him?

For all she knew he might not even want to marry her, given that he would have to share her with Rabastan. Not that he seemed to mind the idea, despite claiming to be already feeling possessive of her as Mina.

She wondered about that too. Just what kind of relationship existed between Draco Malfoy and Rabastan Lestrange that they acted like best friends when they'd been playing in the pool and that Rabastan had looked out for him when Draco had nearly lost it at dinner? She knew she hadn't imagined the hand-holding in the pool.

Not that she minded if they got along or even fancied each other. It was clear they were both attracted to women – to her, in particular – and if she could use any friendship between them to more effectively have them fall for her, all the better. She had a mission to complete. Hermione sighed as she began to softly sing to herself, always the same song. _Blackbird_ by the Beatles. It had always been a favourite of hers growing up. _Blackbird_ and _In My Life_ were two of her favourite Beatles songs of all time.

And Hermione knew a thing or two about the likes of Stockholm syndrome and of seduction. If she could get Draco and Rabastan associating her with certain smells, tastes, songs and touches, they would be more likely to fall for her and easier to manipulate in future. She might not be their captor, but she intended to be their master and their puppeteer.

She would use the song to make them think of her. She would manipulate them with strange little shows of kindness designed to make them fall for her. To make them think she was letting down her guard with them. She would find ways to endear herself to them whilst remaining the witch she'd pretended to be so far. The Mina wolf inside of her gave a strange sort of growling-purr at the idea. Not liking the idea of being kind to anyone or entertaining notions of love or of caring for anyone, but approving of the idea of inspiring such in others to better influence and control them in the long run.

A soft sounding growl that was unnervingly like the one her Bad Wolf made had Hermione slowly opening her eyes even as she sang to herself. She blinked to find Draco Malfoy leaning against the vanity cabinet across from the shower stall. His eyes were a fractured mixture of Malfoy silver and lupine gold as he eyed her hungrily, taking in the sight of every inch of her naked form.

Hermione felt a flicker of self-consciousness as he eyed the love-heart shaped patch of hair at the top of her slit. His eyes feasted on the sight of her and Hermione knew he approved. It was obvious from the erection she could see plainly inside his black silk boxers – all he wore as he stared at her.

"Going to join me, Draco?" Hermione asked, affecting her lilting accent again as she gave him a wicked little smile, wondering if he would join her. Her heart raced at the idea and she wondered if he could hear it beating erratically inside her chest.

"If I get in there," he said quietly over the sound of her humming softly, "I may not let you back out."

Hermione felt her smile grow at his admittance. She turned the taps quickly to cease the hot water pouring over her body and stepped out of the shower towards him.

"Why are you still dressed?" Hermione purred to him as she took up her wand and waved it to dry herself without bothering with a towel. Her hair dried in smooth arcs, coffee curls tumbling down her back. She tossed them over her shoulders, giving him an unimpeded view of her front.

"Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you, Mina?" he asked, his voice turning gravelly with need as he licked his lips hungrily.

"Show me?" she asked stepping closer to him and smoothing her hands carefully over his scarred alabaster chest. Beneath her hands she could feel his heart hammering as wildly as hers did.

"Not in here," he growled, his hands coming out to settle on her naked hips and pulling her towards the door and the bed in his bedroom suite. Even as he dragged her out of there, he pulled her close and dipped his head. Hermione had been expecting wild and out-of-control passion from him and so the brush of his lips, feather-light against her own made a part of her melt needily.

Merlin, but she adored snogging.

He kept walking them towards his bed as he kissed her softly, gently even. He didn't even try to slip his tongue into her mouth. Instead he pressed his lips to hers, tasting them. Tormenting them. Nipping at them ever so slightly and making parts of her that Hermione didn't even know she had quake delightedly. His taste was intoxicating and Hermione realised that she was losing control of the situation.

He smoothed his hands up and down her sides and Hermione marvelled at the innocence of his touch and his kiss when he made no move to grope her. When they reached the bed, Malfoy dropped down to sit on it, tugging Hermione into his lap. She straddled him without breaking the kiss and Hermione found herself wondering when she'd tangled her fingers into his damp blonde hair. He still wore his boxers and it was only as she leaned into him, deepening the kiss to a hot snog herself that he allowed his tongue to tangle with hers.

Hermione sighed at the feeling of delight and fire that swept through her. He kissed her hotly, snogging her like it was his last day on earth. His tongue stroked surely against her own and Hermione marvelled at his skill. She'd only ever kissed Ron like this. She wasn't counting last year's disaster featuring Cormac McClaggen as a kiss since it had felt more like being given exploratory probing of the mouth by an octopus. She'd also kissed Viktor Krum after the Yule Ball in their fourth year, but it had been innocent and nothing like the hot snog Draco Malfoy gave her then.

She'd kissed him before, both the day Snape had captured her and earlier that very afternoon, but kissing him as she did on his bed felt different somehow. Hotter. More meaningful. He growled deep inside his chest when Hermione rolled her hips seductively against the hot lump beneath her and his hands slipped down to her arse, pressing her more firmly against his erection and making her whole body throb with need.

Hermione wondered what kind of person she must be that she could so betray everything she'd stood for to have shagged Snape and now to be snogging Malfoy with the intention of shagging him too. She also wondered what it said about her that she so thoroughly enjoyed it and that she felt like she was losing her mind with how much she wanted to shag Draco right them.

For the longest time, he simply snogged her, driving her out of her mind with lust and Hermione grasped at the need to remain in control. To not let things get out of hand. He could get as wild as he liked with her between the sheets, but she needed to lock up her heart and throw away the key. Because if he could kiss like this and make her feel so alive with just his lips and his tongue on hers, Hermione feared she was in danger of losing her heart to him in the long scheme she needed to enact.

When he broke away from her lips to trail his tongue along the length of her jaw, nipping the skin lightly, Hermine panted and tried to keep her mind from reeling. He kissed down the side of her neck hungrily, making the fire inside her belly flare hotly. Hermione bucked her hips against his again, trying to instigate friction between them, trying to relive the ache he'd started between her legs.

He nipped the side of her neck in the spot he seemed to so favour and Hermione moaned softly as he tongued the wound he made, tasting her blood as though he liked the flavour. He hummed in the back of his throat as though he found her delectable. Hermione scraped her nails lightly against the nape of his neck, pleased when he leaned into the touch and hummed a second time as though he liked the feel.

Hot kisses, licks and nips down her neck and along her collarbone had Hermione feeling like she was losing her mind and she realised she was in danger of giving herself over to the feel of shagging him entirely. To hell with manipulating him. Hermione realised with a jolt that after the day she'd had, she just wanted to think about nothing for a while and what better way to do that than to be mindless with pleasure.

"Oh, God," Hermione moaned, arching her back and pressing her breasts towards him when he ducked his head to kiss his way across her chest and take her nipple into his mouth. He nipped the taut peak just enough to sting but not to break the skin and Hermione's breath grew ragged with need when he sucked on it hard, making it sting and ache with how good the treatment felt.

It felt like heaven.

When he did the same to the other nipple, alternating between breasts with his mouth while his fingers toyed with the neglected breast each time, Hermione was sure she was in over her head. Snape had driven her wild when she'd been with him, but there was something so much more erotic about the way Draco was taking his time and enjoying her. With Snape things had seemed clinical and instructional until she'd been delirious with pleasure.

With Malfoy it felt more like he was worshipping her than that he was intending to instruct her. Idly she wondered if that was his intention. He had agreed to this because he was a horny male and because he meant to ready her for the idea of her being used like a sex-toy at the revels. He could have treated her the way she imagined she might be treated in the event of a lust-potion induced gang-bang, but instead he was taking his time and practically making love to her body. Was he trying to make sure she was comfortable with him? Building enough trust between them to make sure she would be open to the idea of everything they needed to do to one another?

After all, she didn't imagine it would be an easy thing to let him fuck her in the arse if she was worried he was going to hurt her. And given his experience in that field Hermione suspected that Draco Malfoy wasn't about to do anything to her while they were alone together unless he knew she expressly wanted it and unless he made sure that she was good and ready to handle it.

Sweet Merlin, he was skilled with his mouth and Hermione hated him a little bit for being so thorough and so attentive. She was grateful too, since she did need to trust him enough to pull this off, but this would be so much easier if he were the rotten boy he'd always been to her at Hogwarts. How could she manipulate him and use him for her own ends when he could make her feel so good?

Hermione squeaked when he suddenly flipped them both, standing with her still pressed against him, his hands sliding under her arse as he lifted her with ease, turned on the spot and crawled across the bed on his knees, all without ceasing to kiss her skin. He nipped her neck again, lapping at the wound he'd made as he laid her down carefully in the middle of the bed. Her head reeled with how gentle he could be, especially when she could feel the power beneath the corded muscle of his lithe form as he moved against her.

"Mina?" he asked huskily as he kissed his way back over her chest, laving her breasts with attention before he began to kiss his way over her taut stomach.

"Draco?" Hermione whispered, lifting her head slightly when he stopped kissing her flesh.

She found his gaze fixed upon her, his eyes almost entirely Malfoy-silver except for the bright gold ring directly around his pupil as he watched her. His gaze was intense as he stared at her, kneeling on all fours as he hovered over her just close enough that their bodies touched, but not so close as to make her feel trapped beneath his weight.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked her, his fingers rolling her nipples between them and making it hard for her to think straight, "I need for you to be one hundred percent sure."

"I…" Hermione began but he bared his teeth at her ever so slightly and Hermione realised he wasn't finished talking.

"If you're not sure, stop me now," he told her seriously, "Once I taste the rest of you, you're mine, witch."

Hermione could tell he meant it. That he had enough restraint to stop now but didn't trust the beast within himself should he continue. Hermione could tell from the possessive gleam in his eyes that he meant she would be his in every sense of the word. She'd told him earlier she wanted him to be her non-boyfriend, but that was before Snape had told her that her mission called for her marrying Draco and having his children.

"I'm sure, Draco," Hermione told him strongly, even though she was anything but sure she could go through with her mission. She didn't know if she could do it. But she knew that right then she wanted nothing more than she wanted to shag him until she forgot her own name. Until she forgot the way Ron had looked at her with such agony at the Burrow. Until she forgot the pitying wails Mrs Weasley had uttered at the idea of what she had to do for this role.

"Positive?" he asked and Hermione could see the way his body trembled ever so slightly.

"I'm positive. I want you, Draco Malfoy. All of you. Exactly as you are," she told him, "Don't hold anything back from me."

His breath caught at that while Hermione held his gaze and she watched the way his eyes flickered between gold and silver in rapid succession, man and wolf wrestling inside him for control. She watched the way his fangs sharpened ever so slightly in his mouth and she was surprised by his lack of playfulness or cockiness in that moment. She'd never imagined he would be so intense. That he would take this so seriously.

She could tell her words had spoken to him on a much deeper level than they would to anyone else. He was a werewolf. Feared by some for his condition. Loathed by most for being a half-breed and a disgrace to the Malfoy name. He was part animal and he had to fight hard to make sure he maintained his humanity most of the time. And Hermione was telling him he didn't have to do that with her.

He didn't begin to transform any further than his shifting eye colour and his slightly sharper teeth before he nodded once and licked her stomach, nipping the skin and kissing her flesh. Hermione's breath caught as he dipped his tongue into her bellybutton before swirling around her navel and then heading lower.

"This is cute," he growled huskily when he encountered her manicured pubic hair, his tongue tracing the shape of the love-heart and tickling her.

"Thanks," Hermione whispered breathily, her body arching slightly as his fingers stopped toying with her nipples to slide down her body even as he kissed his way lower.

When he settled himself between her thighs, Hermione shivered at the feel of his attentions. He blew cool breath across her sensitive and glistening skin before carefully peeling her folds apart. Hermione whimpered at the touch, wanting so much more than he was giving her. She wanted him to drive those finger into her until she broke around them. Dimly she was aware that he was still wearing his boxers and she quivered when he leaned into her, breathing in her scent in a way that might've unnerved her if she weren't aware of his lycanthropic disposition.

"Fuck, you smell good," he growled and Hermione cried out when he finally gave her what she wanted.

His tongue was hot against her cool skin and he licked all the way up her slit, his tongue dipping into her aching passage before sliding up to swirl around her clit.

"So fucking sweet," she heard him groan before he lost control.

He ate at her then like the starving wolf he was. Nipping her, licking her, feasting on her flesh hungrily. Hermione cried out when he suckled her clit into his mouth, twisting the little bud with his teeth even as he flicked the bean with the tip of his talented tongue. He couldn't seem to get enough of her flavour and Hermione cried out when he delved his arms beneath her, lifting her and canting her hips to a better angle.

She was sure his tongue must've shifted at least partially because the feel of him sliding it into her was like divine torture. He dipped it in as far as he could, licking her out, lapping at her wetness and drinking in the flavour of her body.

"More," he growled when Hermione was sure she was going to lose it. She tossed her head from side to side and she knew she'd given in to letting him do as he chose. She couldn't think straight. She couldn't think at all beyond the dip of his talented tongue deep into her passage as he hunted for more of her sweet nectar.

Snape had been right. She was going to have a hard time keep his tongue from between her legs.

Hermione broke when Draco drove two fingers into her greedily while he suckled her clit, trying to stimulate her enough to bring her undone. When she moaned out her release his tongue was back inside her, lapping at her as she came hard, driving her up the peak again. Hermione sank her hands into his blonde hair, pressing him even closer, wanting even more from him. Nothing had ever felt so good, she was sure of it.

"Oh god, Draco," Hermione whimpered, her hips arching off the bed of their own accord, seeking more pleasure from him, craving the feel of his tongue and his fingers deep inside her again.

He licked all over her, nipping her sensitive nether lips with his teeth, scraping his fangs over her skin lightly.

"More, Mina," he demanded gutturally, his tongue flicking in and out of her as he tried to gather more of her taste, like a hummingbird seeking nectar.

He fingered her as he ate her out, intense in his fucking of her, insatiable in his need for more of her flavour. He broke her four times until she was sure she couldn't come again, even though she had in the past. She couldn't describe the feeling of her body clenching and spasming, his tongue swiping up the gush of liquid between her legs every time he made her wetter and made her come.

She felt worshipped. Like he wanted to devour her but didn't dare for the loss he would feel without being able to taste her again when she was gone. He licked her until Hermione wasn't sure she could even move anymore.

"Draco," she sighed, her hands tugging at his hair and trying to pry his mouth off of her.

"More," he growled, resisting her attempts to haul him up her body so she could shag him properly.

"No more," she replied, pulling harder on his hair when his tongue went even deeper inside her, swirling deep and chasing more of her essence that he might've missed, "Fuck me. Now."

He growled at her, apparently too interested in eating her to care about his own sexual hunger. Hermione growled right back at him and he stilled in his mad plunder of her nethers, his eyes jerking up her body to clash with her own.

"Come up here, now Pup," Hermione commanded him, baring her own teeth at him when he bared his fangs at her. They were wickedly sharp now, having shifted a little more to accommodate for his partially shifted tongue to make it longer and more nimble, to better reach her taste.

She could tell that calling him 'Pup' had gotten his attention.

"You don't call me that, Mina," he warned her but Hermione could tell it had worked when he lifted his face from between her thighs to glare at her, "You don't call me that unless I'm losing control like I did at dinner."

"Fuck me then," Hermione retorted, "Or I'll see just how much influence your Alpha has over you by taking control instead."

He narrowed his eyes at her and for all that Hermione could tell that he didn't like being told what to do, he was realising she was serious and that he'd gotten slightly out of hand eating her out. Hermione was surprised he hadn't drawn blood and she suspected he'd only refrained because the taste of blood would cloud the taste of her love nectar. Hermione smirked at his furious expression before she leaned up to meet him, kissing him hard on the mouth and not even caring about the taste of herself on his tongue.

He snogged her mouth almost as hungrily as he'd snogged her quim, groaning into her as he tasted her lips again. Hermione wriggled beneath him, peeling his boxers down far enough to free his cock from them before gripping it tightly.

"Fuck," he cursed, breaking away from her lips as Hermione worked her hand up and down the length of him, wanting to bring him undone. Wanting to see him let go and orgasm as he'd made her orgasm.

He worked his fingers back into her, stroking her special spot while Hermione stroked her hand up and down the length of him and she realised that him eating her out had left her dry enough that it was going to sting when he worked his cock inside her. He was trying to bring her off again, she knew, but Hermione was too strung out and aching too much for that full feeling of completion she knew came with sex. Muttering a lubrication charm, Hermione guided him to the entrance of her aching passage.

"Do it," she growled when he lingered there, drawing his fingers out of her and suckling them into his mouth. He groaned at her taste again.

"You want it?" he smirked at her and Hermione returned the expression to see that his eyes were entirely silver in that moment.

"Give it," Hermione demanded, bucking her hips slightly and causing him to sink in one glorious inch.

"You sure you want it, Mina?" he taunted her, using just that first inch to shallowly thrust, never giving her more than that and driving her wild.

"More!" Hermione snarled at him, baring her teeth again at him, her nails digging into his arse cheeks while she arched up into him and managed to draw another inch of him inside herself.

He chuckled wickedly at her animalistic display of frustration and Hermione growled at him as though she were the werewolf instead.

"Fuck," he hissed at the sound when she bucked under him again.

He gave her what she wanted and Hermione might've died just a little bit. He drove into her hard and deep until every glorious inch was seated inside her. Hermione hummed with delight as the full, content feeling washed over her. She loved that feeling. There was nothing else like it. Being impaled on a hard, hungry cock made her ache in way she couldn't explain.

Reaching for his lips, Hermione kissed him hungrily, rolling her hips needily.

"Gods, you're so fucking tight," he said hoarsely when he broke away from her lips to kiss her neck again.

Hermione was beyond words. Clinging to him, Hermione gave herself over entirely to the feeling as he reared back from her before driving into her again, impaling her deep enough that her womb ached. He worked into a rhythm quickly and Hermione squeaked, lost in the bliss of his body moving with hers when he slung both her legs up over his shoulders, folding her body even tighter.

She could feel his claws pricking at the flesh of her back where he gripped her tight, holding her down and driving into her hard enough to hurt. It felt amazing.

"Fuck, Mina," he growled, lapping at the blood on her neck when he bit her again.

Hermione screamed when the orgasm slammed into her suddenly, pitching her into the ocean of pleasure. She could hear Draco's ragged breathing as she cried out in surprise and protest when he withdrew from her before he flipped her onto her stomach like she was a rag-doll, manipulating her body with unnerving ease. Once she was lying on her front his clawed hands urged her up, pricking the skin even more as he lifted her until she was on her hands and knees.

She moaned when he drove back into her from the new angle, wrapping himself around her body and enveloping her smaller frame with his. His cock nudged her womb and his hands took hold of hers on the bed as he took her like the wolf he was. She came harder than she ever had when he slammed into her heavily before biting down hard on her shoulder where it joined her neck. The pain and pleasure blurred together, bringing her undone.

"Fuck, witch. I'm going to knot you," he groaned by her ear and Hermione got the feeling that even had she protested the idea, he'd have been unable to stop himself. She felt a swell of magic surge through him and into her, prolonging her orgasm even as she felt his cock swell inside of her when he drove it back in hard enough to make her teeth crack together. As deep as it would go, Draco knotted her and Hermione knew it would ache between her legs tomorrow but the magic that came with the process prevented it from hurting so much as to be unbearable.

It ached and stung but the feeling of being full reached new heights as he tipped his head back and howled with release. Hot, heavy spurts of sticky come filled her up, his knot preventing him from slipping back out of her, anchoring him deep inside and ensuring she took every drop he had to give. Hermione was dimly aware of howling with him as the orgasm overtook her, going on and on. Her vision spotted gold and silver like lightning and she lost consciousness before he was done.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

When she came to, Draco was still inside her. Vaguely she was aware that she lay on her front atop his bed and that the werewolf was sprawled on her back. His deep and even breathing, combined with the strong and steady beat of his heart against her back made her think he was asleep or that he'd passed out as well. She suspected the latter when she realised he was still knotted inside her, still hard and not at all budging from deep within her.

Hermione's mind felt fuzzy with exhaustion from the long day she'd had, combined with the torment he'd inflicted upon her. She also found that she rather like the feel of him so deep inside her and draped over her like a lean blonde blanket. He was warm and there was something about feeling so utterly connected and so completely enveloped by him that made Hermione feel strangely safe in a way she didn't think she had since she'd been a little girl.

The comfortable feel of being with him, of being in his presence and touching him that she had noticed before shagging him seemed magnified and Hermione could honestly say she didn't want him to move at all. Her quim throbbed when he twitched slightly and he groaned softly as though he were waking up.

"Fuck," she heard him curse breathlessly as he came awake, "Mina? Shit, are you alright? I didn't mean to…"

He stammered out apologies as he tried to untangle his fingers from around hers, unable to scramble off her when he was still knotted inside her.

"Don't move, Draco," Hermione murmured softly, smoothing her thumb over the back of his hand where she held it.

"I'm sorry. I've never knotted anyone before," he said, too busy apologising to heed her word, "Fuck. I didn't mean to hurt you. I lost control. Shit."

"Draco?" Hermione murmured, getting his attention when she clenched her pelvic floor muscles tight around his cock inside of her.

"Ah fuck, don't do that," he groaned, "I'll never be able to get off you if you do that."

Hermione did it again.

"I don't want you to get off me," she informed him, feeling sleepy and content in a way she couldn't describe, "Stop wriggling and stop apologising. I can assure you that you didn't hurt me and that if you ever shag me again without knotting me, I might maim you."

He froze against her back while Hermione smoothed her foot against his on the quilt.

"You liked it?" he asked uncertainly.

"I loved it," Hermione hummed in reply, "That was amazing. You're amazing."

She sighed contentedly when he nuzzled his face into the side of her neck, burying his nose against her skin and breathing her in. He kept hold of her hands as he curled his arms beneath her torso, cuddling her to him securely as though she were something precious that he treasured dearly.

" _Mine_ ," she heard him whisper so softly that she didn't think she was supposed to be able to hear it. It was possessive and adoring, and Hermione got the feeling he spoke the word involuntarily.

She didn't know how long they laid there together with him on top of her, blanketing her whilst keeping her feeling so full and somehow adored. Slowly she felt the knot inside her recede and he rolled them both until he was lying on his side and spooned around her snugly. Hermione felt like she could sleep for a week. She'd still been sore all day from her induction into the ranks of the Death Eaters and the added strain of the wild sex she'd had with Snape after it.

This wild round with Draco, combined with the emotionally upheaving day had left her feeling drained and spent. The bliss of post-orgasmic release was lulling her towards slumber very nicely indeed and Hermione sighed when Malfoy kissed her neck gently.

"I bit you again," he whispered, sounding worried over his own behaviour.

Hermione felt him pull out of her, tucking himself back into his boxers before he rolled her slightly so he could see her face.

"Are you alright?" he asked her quietly, looking concerned and ashamed of himself for his lapse in control.

"I'm fantastic," Hermione purred to him.

"You're covered in blood," he corrected her, ducking his head and lapping at the wounds he'd left on her with his fangs and his claws.

Hermione had always been a bit squeamish about blood and the notion of blood play like this unsettled her, but she also felt strangely cared for as he lapped at the blood on her skin until it was gone, leaving only the small pin-prick wounds his claw tips had made on her skin and the small wounds left from being bitten by him.

"That feels nice," Hermione hummed softly to him as he paid special attention to the bite he'd given her when he knotted her, licking it clean.

"You're…." he began, rolling her towards him a little more to peer into her face carefully, "I've never met a witch like you, Mina."

Hermione smiled at him, feeling strangely elated by his words.

"And you never will again," she promised sleepily.

Hermione closed her eyes, intending to sleep and she sighed as she felt him smooth his fingers through her long dark curls gently, as though he adored her.

"We should get under the covers," he whispered to her and Hermione blinked her eyes open again.

"Snuggle me?" she asked him, her mind fuzzy with sleep.

He smiled at her and Hermione marvelled again at how handsome he was when he smiled sincerely like that rather than smirking wickedly at her. There was something about seeing him smile that made something inside of her squirm happily and Hermione returned the expression with a wide smile of her own.

She climbed up off the bed only long enough to burrow under the blankets with him spooned around her. Hermione began humming _Blackbird_ to herself again as she drifted towards slumber.

Malfoy stayed quiet though Hermione could feel him drawing nonsensical patterns against her stomach as he held her tucked into him warmly and Hermione kind of liked the way it felt to be cuddled and held. No one had ever held her like this and she felt so close to breaking down that it was nice to absorb the comfort he offered.

"Draco?" Hermione asked softly, her eyes still closed.

"Hmm?" he hummed sleepily in reply.

Hermione smiled at the sound, realising he seemed as worn out as she did. And no wonder. He'd been living with the number of horrors he'd had to endure, all alone, for more than a year. She'd barely done it a week and already she was exhausted.

"I'm really glad you're here with me," Hermione admitted very softly, nuzzling the arm he'd slipped under her neck as he held her.

He didn't say anything in return, but the slow ragged breath he drew in and the way he clutched her to himself even tighter let Hermione know that she'd struck a chord with him. That he couldn't speak right then as he tried to choke back the rush of emotion her innocent little words had inspired in him. That he was fighting back the urge to sob, as she had done after she'd been branded.

He kissed the top of her head as he held her close and Hermione drifted off to sleep in his arms.


	17. Chapter 17: Seduction

**A/N: 800+ reviews! You guys are spoiling me now! *SQUEE* Seriously, you have no idea how flattered and happy I am that you've all been so generous with your praise and your time as to read this and comment on it. It means the whole world to me that something I'm having so much fun writing and investing so much time into creating is being met with such interest. A special shout out to  julesrulesfools, MzPearlz, MoonNott and Andree07 for taking the time to comment on every chapter. I love you all so much!**

 **In other exciting news I've clear 150k words pre-written on this fic now =) so much more to come!**

 **Now, onto the warnings.**

 **This is one of those chapters you've all been hanging out for and it's not for the easily uncomfortable or for those who don't like smut, because oh my gods, it's so smut-heavy that you can practically smell the sex in the air.**

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 **WARNINGS: Scenes of a sexual nature! This chapter is NOT suitable for workplace reading my dears. You're going to squeal, you're going to blush and you're going to need a few minutes in private to take care of things, if you know what I mean *winks* (or is that just me?) This is one of those chapters that earns this fic it's mature rating. **

**Are you ready?**

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 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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 **Chapter 17: Seduction**

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 _... "It's my body that you want up on the wall,_

 _I've got you tripping so hard that you're pretending to fall._

 _I'm not stupid, I know what keeps you coming around"..._

- **Coming Around (Andie Case)**

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Hermione blinked her eyes open slowly and frowned in confusion at the expanse of pale flesh that met her gaze. Lifting her head slowly, she peered into the face of a peacefully sleeping Draco Malfoy while their earlier carnalities came flooding back to her in a rush. Her body ached deliciously from their exertions and Hermione wondered what time it was.

The room was dark where she slept, only the light of the hearth fire across from the bed illuminating the room and allowing her to see Draco's face. He held her to his chest snugly, his arms secure around her body as though he'd been born to cuddle her while they slept. She couldn't spot a clock anywhere that told her the time and Hermione rolled carefully in Draco's hold, not wanting to wake him just yet.

She wondered if she worried about it for nothing when he pulled her closer as she was trying to shuffle about, pressing a kiss to her forehead tenderly. Hermione froze to peer at him in the dimly lit room, but he gave no indication of being awake. She wondered idly what she was doing awake anyway. It clearly wasn't morning yet. Giving up on trying to shift to a different positon when she was rather comfortable, Hermione began to burrow back into Malfoy's chest, absorbing his warmth and listening to his steady breathing.

A rapid knocking coming from the door made her sit up again, this time wriggling in Draco's hold. Not that he minded since his eyes snapped open, pure lupine gold allowing him to see better in the dark.

"Mina?" he asked, his voice gravelly with sleep.

"Someone's knocking at the door," Hermione told him, when he looked confused by why she was awake.

His nose twitched as he took a deep breath in.

"Pup?" a voice called through the door and Hermione frowned.

"It's Bass," Draco told her, glancing back at her before taking another long breath through his nose, scenting the breeze, "Ah shit."

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked, "Why is he waking you up in the middle of the night?"

"He's having a bad night. He's losing it. Shit," Malfoy crawled out of bed, extracting himself from her quickly, "Put this on. This won't be pretty, princess."

He tossed her a black v-neck jumper and her knickers that she'd discarded earlier.

"Hurry," he urged, "Before he loses it in the hallway."

Hermione did as she was told as she watched Malfoy go to the door, still dressed only in his boxers. He opened it with a jerk and stepped into the opening just in time to catch the dark-haired wizard who fell through it. Hermione got the feeling Rabastan had been leaning on the door before it opened.

"Pup?" he asked, sounding tortured and Hermione watched in confusion as a spasm wracked Rabastan's body as though he were having a fit.

"I've got you, Bass," Malfoy said to the wizard, hauling Rabastan into the room, half-dragging him, "Mina, could you get the door? Ward it so no one can get in and no one can hear anything."

"Is everything alright?" Hermione asked, watching as Malfoy hauled Rabastan over to the bed even as she slipped out of it.

"Just do it. Quickly," Malfoy growled, his eyes still glowing gold in the dark and looking entirely unnatural, "Easy, Bass. Come on. You know where you belong."

Hermione closed the door quickly, casting silencing charms and muffling charms in addition to warding the room against anyone else entering.

"Is he alright?" Hermione asked, crossing the room back to the bed and looking on as Draco slid across it to sit against the headboard before pulling Rabastan back against his chest, his arms tight around the older wizard even as Rabastan unleashed an unearthly sound that made the hair on the back of Hermione's neck stand on end.

"No. He's not alright." Draco shook his head at her, "Stay out of reach for a few minutes, alright? Come on, Bass. Not again. You belong in this form. You know you do. Come on."

Hermione watched with wide-eyes as Rabastan writhed in Draco's grip, unleashing another of those unsettling cries and fighting to be let loose. A chill ran down her spine when his whole body buckled as though he might change shape the way Draco did when the wolf pushed for freedom.

"You told me he's not a werewolf?" Hermione asked, eyeing Rabastan as claws unleashed from the tips of his fingers the way Draco's did.

"He's not," Draco nodded, speaking through gritted teeth as though having trouble holding onto Rabastan as he writhed, "He's an animagus. And he spent fourteen years in prison, most of it spent in his animal form."

"He's an animgaus?" Hermione repeated, watching Rabastan writhe harder on the bed while Draco's mouth became occupied when he nosed aside the loose collar of the shirt Rabastan wore with the blue silk boxers she'd seen him wearing the pool. He bit down hard enough to draw blood, fitting his teeth to almost the exact spot on Rabastan that he'd bitten Hermione when they'd been shagging.

"This is why he seems so sane, despite being in prison with the Dementors for so long," Hermione mused, mostly to herself.

"That long spent in a shape different to human has carry-overs," Malfoy managed, blood on his teeth and seeping over Rabastan's skin. Rabastan was breathing hard, but the sound he'd been making ceased and Hermione watched in fascination as he quieted in Draco's hold.

"Pup?" he asked again, his voice tight and his green eyes squeezed closed as though he feared it could be someone else.

"It's me, Bass," Draco murmured to him and Rabastan sighed out a slow breath, "Are you back under control?"

"Yes," Rabastan said quietly, continuing to slump against Draco where he leaned against the headboard, "Fucking Snape. He drilled me with Legilimency and pushed me over the edge again."

Hermione raised her eyebrows to hear that.

"You can get back into bed if you want, Mina," Draco told her, licking the blood off his teeth, his arms still clamped tightly around Rabastan and not daring to let go.

"Mina?" Rabastan's eyes snapped open and his gaze speared her where she stood at the foot of the bed, "Shit. I forgot you were here."

His cheeks coloured ever so slightly and Hermione got the feeling he was ashamed by his loss of control. Not that it wasn't understandable. She had been looking into Animagi herself since they'd first learned about it in third year and Hermione knew the dangers of spending too long in one's animal form. Continued time spent outside of human form caused the Animagus's mind to begin to blur between being human and being animal.

It was one of the reasons Sirius had exhibited so many canine qualities. So long spent in his dog form in prison and on the run after that had made it difficult for him to distinguish between the two forms. Much like Lycanthropy, Animagi introduced animal qualities to the animagus. The transformations were supposed to be voluntary, but too long in the other form meant that it grew harder to determine which was the natural form and which was the elected form to be in. Meaning that while the intent of animagi was for a witch or wizard to elect to transform into an animal, too long spent that way meant electing to be human became more difficult. Being human or animal was like having an extra muscle.

Too long working it one way and not the other meant it was harder to work it the other when you needed to.

"Are you alright, Rabastan?" Hermione asked him quietly, eyeing him curiously as he watched her.

Draco leaned back into Rabastan's neck, lapping at the blood from the wound he'd caused with his teeth, but if Rabastan minded being bitten and licked by the werewolf, he didn't show it.

"I'm fine," he nodded, but Hermione could tell he was lying from the way he suddenly arched in Draco's hold again, his body shuddering and spasming again.

"Severus did this?" Draco asked Rabastan quietly, watching Hermione as she crawled up onto the end of the bed.

Her curiosity was getting the better of her and Hermione was unable to resist crawling closer when she noticed the way fur suddenly covered much of Rabastan's body before receding again just as quickly.

"Drilled me on my intentions towards her," Rabastan told Draco, nodding towards Hermione as she crawled up the bed between both of their legs.

She had the feeling that human touch helped him hang onto his humanity, something she suspected based on the way his hands gripped Draco's tightly while Draco continued to hold him securely. Rabastan panted as he fought the tremors and spasms that came from trying to hold one form and not the other. Ordinarily it was supposed to be the other way around. That being in animal form was hard to hold onto and so had to be practiced in short stints until one developed a resilience to the urge to let the magic go and change back to human form.

But Rabastan had spent almost half his life in his animal form – whatever it happened to be – and so his body had grown used to being in that form. Meaning he had to work and practice at staying in human form.

"Does it hurt?" Hermione asked him curiously, not meaning to be insensitive but also entirely intrigued by the process.

She'd seen Remus haul Sirius away a few times before he'd died when he looked like he might be losing it a little bit, but she'd never witnessed the type of things Rabastan seemed to be struggling with.

"Fighting the urge to change hurts," Rabastan nodded his head at her and Hermione raised her eyebrows in askance as she hovered her hands over his bare thighs, silently asking permission to touch him.

He nodded his head again in affirmation, curling one leg around her as though desperate for the contact to better keep himself human.

"Does transforming hurt?" she asked him, smoothing her hands over his thighs carefully and watching the way he relaxed into the feel of being touched.

"No. Switching from one to the other isn't painful. No different to casting a Disillusionment Charm on yourself really, though it feels a bit more like being stretched than like having something dribbled down the back of your neck," Rabastan told her before gritting his teeth, another tremor rocking through him.

Draco fitted his teeth to Rabastan's neck again, biting down hard enough to draw more blood from the wound he'd made.

"But hanging onto one form when your body wants to take the other is painful?" Hermione clarified, thinking that if she kept him talking he'd have a better chance of staying human. It felt strange to be touching him and talking to him whilst sitting so close to him. His knees bracketed her ribs, pulling her close to himself as she ran her hands up and down his thighs. Draco's knees bracketed Rabastan's too, also curling around Hermione where she sat cross-legged before them.

"The urge to change shape stings, warning an animagus to shift back to their regular shape. But you can ignore it. In Azkaban, I ignored it until I'd lose control of the magic and shift shape – lasting longer and longer between forced shifts back to human form," Rabastan explained to her quietly, "Now it's hard to hang onto human form without being forced to shift back to animal."

Hermione nodded her head thoughtfully, watching him carefully.

"You said Papa used Legilimency on you?" Hermione asked shuffling even further forward. It was strange, but the sight of him having such trouble hanging onto human form melted away the way he seemed so unnerving during daylight hours when he seemed completely in control. She slid closer and closer, unfurling her bent legs and lifting them until they were looped over Rabastan's and Draco's while her bum remained on the bed between Rabastan's thighs.

"Broke my fucking walls," Rabastan cursed, tilting his head slightly so he could look at Draco meaningfully, "I tried to get them back up, but it didn't go very well alone in my room."

Hermione could tell there was far more to the issue than he was saying and she didn't have to be a genius to figure it out. He'd spent fourteen years utterly alone in prison. She knew about the mental walls required to separate the animal from the human in an animagus mind, melting only when they were shifting shape before forming again in the new shape.

"He's been having fun with that today," Draco nodded, "He fucked me over earlier too. Mina had to intervene when I lost control."

Hermione watched both wizards eye her speculatively.

"How'd she do that?" Rabastan wanted to know.

"She's not scared of me. Even when I threaten to rip her throat out with my teeth," Draco admitted quietly, his tongue darting out to lick at the trickle of blood oozing down Rabastan's shoulder.

Hermione watched the pair of them with intrigue. She'd known that werewolves tended to have issues with personal space boundaries. It was one of the reasons Remus was always so tired and so miserable. The wolf craved contact with others while the man tried to keep from exhibiting symptoms that gave away the condition he suffered. She'd assumed Draco had the same problem, but watching him lap at Rabastan's skin as though sexuality and intimacy meant nothing made her think the pair of wizards before her were closer than she'd believed.

"No fear at all?" Rabastan asked and Hermione ignored the way they were talking about her as though she weren't there.

"None," Draco shook his head, still eyeing Hermione.

"Just how many werewolves have you been in contact with, Mina Snape?" Rabastan wanted to know, pulling slightly at Draco's arms to get him to loosen his hold. He gave no indication to suggest he wanted to be completely released or that he wanted to move and Hermione got the message that human contact helped.

She supposed fourteen years cooped up in a tiny cell with only the other prisoners heard but not seen and the Dementors for company would do that to a person. Fourteen years spent as an animal would certainly effect things too. He probably craved human contact of any kind almost constantly now that he was free. Something conveniently catered to by Draco's condition also making him crave human contact.

"In close quarters or in general?" Hermione clarified with a smirk.

"Both," Rabastan shrugged.

"I've only shagged one werewolf, if that's what you're asking. At least, so far," Hermione shrugged her shoulders.

"Planning on seducing more?" Rabastan asked her.

"Yes," Hermione retorted unrepentantly, "I happen to like werewolves."

She grinned at Draco who smirked at her in return before licking more blood from Rabastan's shoulder.

"You're making that worse on purpose because it's so close to the full moon and you like blood, Pup," Rabastan accused Draco, shrugging his shoulder slightly when Draco nipped him again.

"Tastes good," Draco shrugged unrepentantly.

"Does he bite you like this too, Mina?" Rabastan asked her, seeming amused by Draco's response and not at all alarmed by having his flesh chewed or his blood licked up. Hermione eyed the pair of them for a long moment, wondering what sort of friendship existed between them that they were so comfortable together and wondering how their dynamic worked.

Ordinarily Rabastan seemed entirely in control at all times, detached yet curious. Cruel, yet quick to laugh and find amusement in things. She knew he enjoyed unsettling others and that he liked puzzles. He didn't exhibit jealous tendencies over her, though he intended to marry her and he clearly didn't mind being touched by Draco. Her curiosity about him continued to grow, but she tried her best not to show it.

Hermione pulled aside the neck of the jumper she wore to reveal the wounds on her shoulder and her neck where Draco had bitten her too.

"And here I'd thought I was special," Rabastan smirked.

"You're a special brand of idiot," Draco informed him nastily though his eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Just how close are the two of you?" Hermione asked as she watched them interact as though they were best friends.

"Is she asking if we fancy each other?" Rabastan asked Draco over his shoulder.

"Looks like it. I think we're turning her on," Draco replied, his nose twitching in her direction as though he could scent desire on her. Hermione supposed he could. And the bastard was right. They were kind of turning her on. It wasn't every day that two handsome wizards could be so comfortable together and both have intimated interest in her sexually.

Unbidden, images played in her mind of what it would be like to shag both of them at once and Hermione kind of hated the Bad wolf inside herself for finding it hot as hell.

"We don't fuck each other, if that's what you want to know," Rabastan told her, grinning at the way her cheeks turned slightly pink. Hermione could tell he was curious about her and how her mind worked. That he would try to crawl under her skin, as Snape had warned, and she realised she was going to have to be on her guard with him. He was trouble.

"That seems a pity," Hermione informed the pair of them, smirking wickedly at them.

"Yep, we're turning her on," Draco confirmed, laughing just a little bit as though the idea amused him.

"Is it our roguish good looks?" Rabastan wanted to know, "You want to see me and Draco have at each other because we're both so pretty?"

"I think it's more like raw animal magnetism and wondering just how wild that might make the two of you," Hermione retorted with an evil chuckle and they both looked affronted for a moment before Rabastan began to laugh.

The sound was rich and genuine and just as she'd done at dinner, Hermione found herself enjoying the sound of it. He had a nice laugh that seemed to detract from how cold and detached he seemed from things. Of course, she imagined that hearing that laugh whilst suffering some of the horrors she knew he was capable of would torment his victims. The reminder that he was a murderer made her wary of him, and Hermione tried to ignore the voice of her subconscious reminding her that she was a killer too.

She'd looked a man in the eye, ignored his pleas for mercy and she'd ended his life. She had done that. She hadn't wanted to, but she'd done it just the same and she wondered how many of the things Rabastan had done, how many of the crimes he'd committed, had been done involuntarily for the sake of saving his own skin. How many of them were done simply out of the cruelty of his heart and the twisted nature of his psyche?

"Pup that better not be what I think it is prodding my arse," Rabastan said, ceasing his laughter suddenly and drawing Hermione's attention back to the pair of wizards in front of her.

She blinked to find Draco's eyes fixed upon her hungrily as though he wanted to fuck her all over again, turned on by the notion of her daydreaming about him, even if it was a daydream also featuring Rabastan. Rabastan watched her as well and Hermione could tell they both very much wanted to shag her.

"As though you don't have the same problem?" Draco retorted before nodding at the front of Rabastan's boxers.

Hermione glanced down in front of her to see that her words or perhaps her proximity had turned him on. His boxers barely contained the erection he sported and Hermione felt her mouth go dry to know they both wanted her so badly.

"Yeah, but I'm not poking you with mine, am I?" Rabastan retorted, squirming like he needed to get away from what Hermione suspected must be Draco's growing erection.

"Get off me then, if you don't like it," Draco retorted coldly but Hermione could tell he wasn't at all offended. She recalled Draco saying that he'd never shagged Rabastan, but it was clear they were close. Rabastan had come to Draco in a time of need, allowing the younger wizard to see him at his most vulnerable and letting him know such a thing when it could be used against him at a later date. It seemed very non-Slytherin of both of them.

Rabastan wriggled slightly and Hermione realised he was intending to do just that. She stood quickly to better allow them both to disentangle from one another.

"You stick that in my face love," Rabastan said, tipping his head back where the junction of her thighs was right in front of his face as she stood, "And you might not like what I do to you."

Hermione smirked down at him in return, "Depends how good you are at it."

Rabastan grinned at her wickedly while Draco's nose twitched as though he could smell her desire and he licked his lips like he wanted another taste of her.

"She taste good, Pup?" Rabastan asked of Draco as though noticing the way he squirmed slightly like he wanted to drag her knickers off of her and eat her out all over again.

"Better than good," Draco admitted, his voice husky, "She had to imitate an Alpha to get my tongue out of her and my cock into her."

Rabastan whistled low at that, looking like he'd kill for a taste. Hermione smiled at the pair of them wickedly even as she stepped to one side so she could get under the blankets. Feeling the need to regain her equilibrium, Hermione realised she was thirsty and that she needed a moment to herself away from both of them to get back in control of the situation. She was still half-asleep and she wasn't about to let them take advantage of her when she was so tired.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked, when Hermione stepped over him intent on getting a drink of water from the sink in the bathroom.

"Don't get grabby with me, Malfoy," she warned him, shaking his hand off her ankle, "I need a drink. Would you like one?"

"I would, please," Rabastan told her, climbing off of Draco and letting him up. Both of them stood on the bed like children, pulling the covers back far enough that they could both climb inside it. Hermione was surprised at Rabastan's show of manners and she smiled a little at the notion of him being so polite when just moments ago he'd been being vulgar and suggestive with her.

"Me too please Mina," Draco nodded as he released her ankle and let her climb back down off the bed.

Hermione strolled across the room in the dark to fetch them all water.

When she reach the bathroom she stared at her reflection for a moment, noticing that her curls were tussled and messy from sleep and from having Draco ravish her earlier. Her body ached a bit from the rough treatment, still sore from her initiation and the wild shag she and Snape had had in the shower. Draco's treatment of her had left her even more exhausted and honestly she just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a week, but she didn't think she was going to get her wish.

Not now that she was a Death Eater.

Rolling up her sleeve, Hermione examined the Dark Mark on her arm once more, noticing that it hadn't seeped any more of the ink out of itself since she'd left the Burrow. Was the magic beginning to take? Was it tainting her essence and staining her soul? She felt slightly heavy with the horror of it, knowing it was part of the Dark Lord. Nibbling her bottom lip, Hermione pulled her sleeve back down before glancing back at her reflection. She looked tired, with just the faintest hint of dark circles beginning to form under her eyes.

She supposed lack of nourishment had to do with it, since the only meal she'd eaten since she'd been branded was the dinner she'd had hours earlier with the Malfoys and the Lestranges. Her stomach gave a faint gurgle, making Hermione think she might be hungry and she wondered idly if Malfoy would be above showing her to the kitchen or having an elf bring her something. Not that she really wanted to have them wake up one of the elves just to get her something to eat.

Sighing, Hermione dragged a hand through her hair and wondered how long she could ignore her hunger. Using her wand to conjure the cups before levitating them back to the wizards each wanting one.

"You're in the middle, love," Rabastan informed her, clearly intending to stay the night in Draco's bed now that he was here. Hermione supposed that if she'd spent so long alone, she wouldn't want to spend time by herself either if she could help it. The niggling reminder that she was to seduce both wizards sitting against the headboard into marrying her stilled Hermione's protests about the idea of him staying when she wasn't ready to be shagging both of them and wasn't much of a snuggler anyway.

"You realise that of the three of us, I require the least physical contact, right? Shouldn't one of you be in the middle?" Hermione asked the pair of them, unnerved by the idea of sharing the bed with the two of them.

She watched as they both accepted the goblets of water she'd levitated over to them, drinking from them deeply before offering her an answer.

"He's afraid of my cock," Draco told her, rolling his eyes and looking entirely too arrogant. Rabastan snorted at his blunt reply and Hermione found herself giggling just a little bit at the idea.

"Does he think putting me between him and it will protect him from it?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows, "That thing has a mind of its own."

"You love it," Draco retorted, smirking at her as he drank his water.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders at him, not bothering to deny it when she had so thoroughly enjoyed shagging him and being impaled on the serpent he kept in his boxers, "Can I ask why you made me get dressed?"

Not that she minded being dressed or that she particularly wanted to disrobe in front of the pair of them right then. But she was curious about him ensuring she wore clothing before opening the door for Rabastan. It seemed out of character when they'd both been trying to get her naked since they'd laid eye on her. Especially given the fact that looking as she did, Hermione had few qualms about anyone seeing her naked. What point was there in being self-conscious when she looked like a lingerie model thanks to the potion Snape had given her?

Besides, she had a mission to complete that involved a lot of sex and that meant she needed to be comfortable within her own body.

"He scratches when he loses it," Draco nodded his head at Rabastan.

"So do you," Rabastan retorted, also drinking his water and watching Hermione over the goblet.

"And I've left enough marks on her today for the pair of us. Didn't want you ripping her belly open by accident," Draco retorted.

"Feel free to remove the clothes if you like, love. No one in this bed is going to complain," Rabastan piped up, rolling his eyes at Draco as though he were being dramatic for fearing for Hermione's life.

Hermione glanced between the two of them, getting the feeling that they would very much be up for a threesome right then if she agreed to it. Hermione eyed them speculatively. She'd been intending to hold off on shagging Rabastan at all until she could get more used to the idea of shagging around and until she was more comfortable with Draco.

Just at that moment her stomach rumbled quietly and Draco raised his eyebrows before he snorted.

"You're hungry?" he asked, watching Hermione sweep one hand over her tummy as though that might quiet the noise.

"The only thing I've eaten since the day of my initiation was what we had at dinner," Hermione offered weakly, biting her lip and looking away, "I'd been feeling too sick before then."

When she glanced back at the pair of them on the bed, Hermione was surprised to see them both wearing expressions of sympathy.

"That was two days ago, Mina. Do you want something now?" Draco offered, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Kind of," Hermione admitted, feeling silly for being hungry in the first place, "If you direct me to the kitchen, I would be happy to get something for myself."

"Nonsense, that's what elves are for," Rabastan waved his hand at her, "Trink?"

Hermione cringed ever so slightly at the crack of the elf apparating into the bedroom. She was surprised when he didn't look like he'd been woken up and she supposed it made sense that the elves would be working during the night to better avoid being seen by their masters as they cleaned and cooked.

"Master?" Trink asked and Hermione watched him look between Malfoy and Lestrange on the bed, eyeing them in confusion.

"Bring us something to snack on," Malfoy commanded the elf, "Mina's hungry."

Trink spun on the spot to look at her where she stood behind the elf and his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of her.

"What is you hungry for Miss?" Trink asked in a small voice, bowing respectfully.

Hermione thought about it for a moment, not entirely sure what she was in the mood for. She snorted to herself when the first thing she thought of was pizza.

"Do you know how to make pizza?" Hermione asked the elf and she saw the surprised expressions Rabastan and Draco both wore at her choice.

"Of course Miss. Is you liking something particular on your pizza?"

Hermione nodded, "Pepperoni, salami, onion, chilli, jalapenos, bacon and enough cheese to kill me. With a glass of milk on the side."

"That sounds good," Draco admitted, "Double the order for me, Trink."

"Triple it," Rabastan agreed and the elf disapparated to prepare their food.

"Are you coming to bed?" Draco asked of her.

"Are you going to complain if I eat in bed?" Hermione countered, smirking at him even as she stepped back up onto the bed and made to head to the space they left between them both, clearly waiting for her to climb in beside them.

"I might complain about you not being naked," Draco replied.

"You just want to eat me again," Hermione retorted.

"Guilty as charged," he shrugged unapologetically and Rabastan snorted. Draco glanced at the man before looking back up at Hermione as she stalked closer, "Bass wants a taste too."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'd hate to spoil your appetite and have Trink's hard work go to waste," Hermione replied.

"Oh, it won't spoil my appetite," Draco assured her as Hermione stepped over him so that her feet were either side of his bony hips. He was still shirtless as he looked up at her.

Hermione froze when he swept his hands up her legs, his eyes glittering in askance as he smoothed his hands up her thighs and towards her knickers, clearly asking if he could remove them. She bit her lip, her gaze darting between Draco and Rabastan.

It was a bad idea. She knew it was. She'd never get his tongue back out of her long enough to eat her pizza when Trink returned with it and she wasn't sure she could handle shagging both Draco and Rabastan right then. She'd wanted to grow accustomed to shagging both of the individually before taking them on together. But if she backed out now they might view it as fear or weakness and Hermione couldn't have that either.

"You realise that I'm going to taste like you, don't you Draco?" Hermione asked, recalling that she'd fallen asleep before performing the cleansing charms to rid her of the come he'd filled her up with earlier.

Draco smirked at her and Hermione suspected he wouldn't care either way. Total canine. The idea made her squirrelly however and Hermione used her wand to perform the charms to rid herself of anything he'd squirted into her earlier. Her body tingled when Draco slid her knickers down her legs and she hissed when she nearly lost her balance trying to step out of them as Draco nudged her thighs further apart and reached up to bury his face between her legs.

He groaned at her taste as he dipped his tongue inside her again and Hermione whimpered at how much it stung.

"Sore?" Rabastan asked her, hearing the sound and shuffling closer.

"Yes," Hermione admitted breathlessly, "He knotted me earlier."

She tangled her fingers in Draco blonde hair as he hugged her thighs and licked her out. Hermione was sure she'd have lost her balance or that her knees would have buckled if not for the way he clung to her.

"First time being knotted, then?" Rabastan asked her and Hermione nodded her head, reaching one hand towards the other wizard slowly.

He took her hand gently in his and Hermione was surprised when he turned it in his grip to kiss the inside of her wrist. It was like torture. Hermione closed her eyes against the sensations of Draco's tongue delving deep inside her, laving the length of her slit hungrily. He was as gentle as Rabastan was and Hermione could tell they were trying to take it easy on her, despite the raging erections they both sported.

Rabastan pressed butterfly kisses along the inside of her forearm and over the Dark Mark there while Hermione's breathing hitched.

"Go easy Pup," Rabastan warned the werewolf softly when Hermione winced as Draco drew her clit into his mouth and suckled on it, "You hurt her earlier."

Draco paused in his attentions, opening his eyes to stare at her and Hermione stared back.

"Are you alright?" he asked her and Hermione felt a terrible twist inside of herself at his tenderness. They were going to be her undoing, Hermione was sure of it. They were going to work their way behind her armour if they could be so kind to her.

"It stings," Hermione admitted softly.

Draco nodded carefully before he licked her much gentler, using the flat of his tongue to lap at her swollen and sensitive flesh. Rabastan abandoned her arm to trail a line of those butterfly kisses over her thigh and Hermione's knees quaked.

"Lay down, Mina," Rabastan murmured to her, "Pup, let her down before she falls."

Draco glanced sideways at Rabastan, his tongue still tormenting her slit and Hermione could tell he didn't want to stop tasting her even long enough to let her down. But he did. Hermione gasped when she was lying on her back, her head towards the foot of the bed. Draco crawled right back between her thighs, licking her out so tenderly that tears prickled behind her eyes.

Rabastan on the other hand, took both of her hands in his, intertwining their fingers and pinning them to the bed above her head. Hermione met his green eyes as he leaned over her slowly, that expression of detached curiosity back on his face, warring with the hunger that glittered in her eyes. A moan escaped her when Draco suckled her clit again, gentler this time.

Divine torture took on new meaning.

"Tell us if you want us to stop, Mina," Rabastan warned her quietly as he leaned closer, his gaze never wavering from hers.

Hermione knew he was giving her the chance to back out. To tell them to stop. To say she wasn't ready to try a threesome with the two of them. And she wasn't. Hermione knew she wasn't because she didn't feel like she was in control. She felt naughty and wild and like she was losing her mind. Draco's tongue worked her over wickedly, driving her batty with need and lapping up every droplet of her sticky desire.

Rabastan leaned even closer and Hermione's lips tingled for a taste of him. She should stop them. She knew she should. She was going to do something foolish and get in over her head if she kissed him now. But she didn't want to stop. The promiscuous bitch-in-heat that lived inside her Bad wolf urged her forwards and Hermione found herself arching off the bed again, her hands pinned by Rabastan and her thighs pinned by Draco.

She pressed her lips to Rabastan's lightly. Softly. Brushing them over his carefully, despite how badly she wanted them to ravish her. Butterflies rioted in her stomach as he kissed her back just as softly, following her back down to the mattress and kissing her so carefully she might've been made of glass and he feared he would break her. Her mind buzzed with questions about how sweet they could both be, riling against the idea of not being in control and yet alive with how much she wanted them both to ravish her until she couldn't walk.

Snape would kill her if he could see her giving in to them so easily. He'd warned her to make sure she was always in control of her own body but Hermione was too tired and too strung out to care about it right then. There would be time enough for refraining from moaning like a well-paid whore for them later. Right now she just wanted to feel. Her mind rejected the idea that she was intending to shag both of them at once, the Hermione part of her soul warring with the Mina within her, scrabbling for dominance and making her crazy.

Rabastan swallowed the ragged moan she emitted when Draco worked one finger into her carefully. She whined in the back of her throat at how much it hurt to have him putting anything back inside her when she was so tender down there.

"Hurts too much, love?" Draco asked, his voice gravelly with need.

Hermione nodded, whimpering again as Rabastan continued to kiss her. His tongue swept against the seam of her lips and Hermione parted them, moaning again as his tongue dipped into her mouth while Draco's tongue dipped between her nether lips, his nose nudging her clit. Rabastan kissed her hotly, his tongue stroking surely against hers and Hermione felt her brain go fuzzy with need and desire. A rush of it through her system and between her legs made Draco groan as he lapped up her desire greedily.

She felt like she was losing her mind and Hermione knew with a sudden jolt that right in that moment it wasn't Mina in the driver's seat. She was all Hermione Granger and yet all caught up in the feel of being so thoroughly attended. This was bad. She needed to stop them. She couldn't do this as Hermione and not Mina. Hermione would fall for the type of men who could worship her body like she was their goddess of nourishment.

She knew she needed to stop them but she didn't seem to have it in her to do so. Not when Rabastan's kiss set fire to her blood and made her want to rub herself all over him. Not when Draco's mouth at her core made her ache with need and made her want to beg him to impale her on his cock again. To knot her and pump her full of everything he had. How could she deny them when they wanted her so badly? How could she deny herself when she was sure stopping now would make her lose her mind?

She kissed Rabastan harder, aching for something she couldn't name and suspecting the two of them were willing to give it to her. Tomorrow she could worry about the consequences of allowing them both to seduce her this way. Tomorrow she could deal with the fallout. Right now she needed distraction and it so happened that this distraction would work in her favour. She needed them to think they could have her. That they might be able to get under her skin, to seduce her and steal her heart away.

They didn't know it was lying broken on the floor of the Burrow with no way to put the shattered pieces back together.

Rabastan leaned into her then, as though he could sense her surrender. He kissed her harder, his tongue curling around hers and stealing the breath from her lungs. Hermione squeezed his hands where she held them. She was close to release already, Draco's mouth tormenting her core and strumming her strings of pleasure with unmatched skill. Digging one heel into him, Hermione tried to press him closer, her hands too occupied to pull him into her.

She felt more than heard his huff of wicked laughter against her sensitive flesh before he drew her clit back into his mouth hard, twisting the bud with his teeth while flicking it with his tongue. Breaking her kiss with Rabastan, Hermione let out a strangled breath as she careened off the edge and into bliss.

"Heh!" she moaned, her eyes closed, her teeth biting her swollen bottom lip as she tried to tamp down the urge to scream.

When she opened her eyes to the sound of Draco's groan and his renewed frenzy for her juices as they gushed, Rabastan's green eyes peered back at her like glowing emeralds. Wriggling her hands under his grip, Hermione slid them free before reaching for him and peeling the loose-fitting shirt he wore off his body. He relinquished it with a wicked smirk before tugging on the hem of the jumper she wore until Hermione was naked.

Hermione felt his gaze travel over her bare body in the firelight before he leaned back into her, a smirk still on his lips as he pressed them to hers. She tangled one hand in his dark hair, kissing him back hungrily and letting rational thought drift away. He smoothed his hands over her taut stomach, so gentle in the touch that Hermione sighed contentedly. She'd found with Snape that she liked things rough, but she was learning with Draco and Rabastan that gentle and adoring was intoxicating too.

Her free hand reached for Draco between her thighs and he gave another one of those growling-purrs that made her quiver with delight. The feel of the blonde wizard kissing his way up over her hips and across her ribs made Hermione feel like she was being overloaded with sensations. He worked one finger back inside her slowly and Hermione whimpered against Rabastan's lips.

It stung a little bit, but the recent orgasm tricked her body into believing more pleasure was the answer.

"Oh, God," Hermione gasped when Draco kissed his way up to take her left nipple in his mouth while Rabastan kissed down the side of her neck before suckling her right nipple. His hand slid across her stomach and down to join Draco's where it played against her core. They both tormented her mercilessly, so gentle yet so insistent on providing her pleasure that Hermione was sure she was going to break.

Rabastan slipped a finger inside her alongside Draco's, each of them curling their fingers to press to her special spot. A ragged sob tore from Hermione's throat, her grip on their hair begging them both for more. They tortured her that way until she orgasmed again, pressing her clit and sucking her breasts and fingering her blind.

"More," Hermione heard herself beg of them as Draco's slick digits slipped out of her cleft and back towards her bottom.

"Mina?" he murmured, his tongue rolling her nipple around his mouth while Rabastan tormented the other. The fingers in her pussy began to throb and pulse, working her harder as he added a second finger and then a third.

"Do it," Hermione moaned as Draco's finger flirted with her back entrance, trailing her slick juices over the tight bud, swirling around it and pressing lightly against it.

Hermione could tell they were both surprised by her command and Rabastan leaned up to swallow her moan with his kiss again as Draco sank a finger inside her arse.

Sweet mother of Merlin, it was still sore back there!

After what Snape had done to her two days ago the tight ring of muscle protested the intrusion, but Hermione stifled the urge to cry out. She needed to get used to it, blast it all. One finger was nothing compared to having a cock inside there, which she knew she would have to do again. She hated herself a little when she realised she didn't even mind, but for the sting.

As the pair of them fingered both aching holes, Hermione felt delirious with pleasure. Rabastan kissed like the devil, making her throb for more. Draco worked her over with that single digit slowly, gathering more of the slick juices she gushed when Rabastan's fingers in her pussy made her wetter. She groaned when he worked a second finger inside the tight hole and she cried out when he scissored them, pressing the muscle, stretching it, trying to widen the hole.

"Fuck," Rabastan hissed between his teeth when Hermione slid her hand over his stomach and inside his boxers, gripping his cock tightly.

She was beyond reason now, beyond thought of anything but receiving pleasure and giving it in return. Recalling what Snape had showed her, Hermione worked her hand firmly up and down the silken steel rod of Rabastan's cock. Her thumb swiped over the head where it leaked pre-cum, smearing it over his length to better lubricate her hand. She kissed him again, feeling frantic as his fingers and Draco's worked her towards orgasm again.

With her eyes closed while she kissed him, Hermione's free hand sought out Draco cock, sliding his boxers out of her way to grasp the appendage tightly and work him over too.

"Hells, witch," Draco groaned, his fingers growing erratic inside her, pumping in and out and making her crave them both.

The urge to be filled up again took hold of her. She needed it. She had to have it. She felt like a junkie hanging out for another hit. She wasn't sure she could handle having one of them in each of those tight sheaths, but her jaw practically ached for the urge to suck one of them down her throat. When Rabastan pulled back from kissing her, Hermione opened her eyes and she watched the way both wizards watched her, their eyes hooded and dark with desire as she jerked them both off.

"You have to taste her, Bass," Draco groaned when Hermione used her grip on his cock to pull him closer, sitting up slightly and swiping her tongue over the weeping end of his cock.

"With pleasure," Rabastan growled huskily, freeing his cock from Hermione's hand and crawling down her body. Draco took his fingers from her arse as he crawled closer to her mouth.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned when Hermione wrapped her lips around his cock and swallowed him whole, "Fuck, you're good at that."

"Tastes so fucking good," Rabastan exclaimed when he tongued her, licking his own fingers clean of her juices before he began lapping at her flesh as fervently as Draco had done. Draco's hands tangled in her hair as Hermione begun to hum _Blackbird_ again while she bobbed her head over him. Her gag reflex tried to kick in only once before Hermione clamped down on it, working him past her lips and down her throat.

"Oh shit, Mina," Draco moaned gutturally.

Hermione hummed louder, smirking around his cock and trying not to squirm as Rabastan used his fingers and his mouth to torture her. She moaned when he pressed tight little circles to her clit repeatedly, swirling it around and around like a bean in oil, slick with his saliva and her juices. Draco's cock jerked as she moaned, sending him deeper until she'd swallowed every inch of him and Hermione cupped his bollocks carefully.

"Bass?" Hermione asked when she withdrew Draco from her mouth long enough to speak before sucking him back in again.

"Yeah?" Rabastan asked, clearly not minding her use of the nickname Draco used for him.

Hermione tongued the head of Draco's cock and made him groan before she spoke again.

"Fuck me," Hermione commanded of the wizard between her legs.

"Fuck you've got a dirty mouth, witch," Draco growled huskily while Rabastan laughed at her demand as she bucked slightly against his fingers when he wiggled them inside her again.

Hermione responded to Draco by sucking him hard, swirling her tongue along his length and torturing him as she worked all of him back down her throat.

"Ready love?" Rabastan asked when he'd shifted around to line his cock up to her slick passage.

"Mmhmm," Hermione hummed affirmatively around Draco's cock.

Rabastan didn't wait for further prompting before he slid into her slowly. Mindful of how sore she was, he did it carefully, thrusting shallowly to coat himself in her juices as he worked each long inch inside her.

"Fuck," Rabastan whispered when he bottomed out inside her, his length nudging against her cervix and making her ache.

Hermione had never felt so good as she did then with both of their cocks buried to the hilt inside of her.

"Did you ever see a witch look as good as she took the cock?" Rabastan asked of Draco.

"Never," Draco growled.

Hermione moaned as Rabastan set a driving rhythm. She hummed _Blackbird_ around Draco turgid member as she bobbed her head in time with each bone jolting thrust Rabastan gave her. Draco's hands were fisted in her curls as he knelt over her, having straddled her chest to better fuck her mouth.

"Flip over for us, Mina," Rabastan commanded when they'd worked her to orgasm. Their sounds of pleasure drove Hermione mad and she knew she was creaming like a porn-star.

"Fuck yeah," Draco agreed withdrawing his cock from her mouth with a pop and crawling off her.

Hermione flipped to her stomach, getting on her hands and knees. Rabastan drove himself deep inside her again and Hermione whimpered at the ache inside of herself when the position drove him even deeper. Her brutalised passage throbbed from the knotting she'd received earlier and Hermione was sure she might black out from the way it hurt so good.

"Oh, god that's good," Hermione moaned, trying to catch her breath, her vision spotting with colour as her body threatened to pitch into orgasm again.

Draco's hand under her chin tipped her head up and Hermione opened her mouth, licking the tip of his cock before he slipped it past her lips again.

"Mmmmmmmm," Hermione moaned around him as the feel of taking them both at the same time pushed her into orgasm.

"Bloody hell, she's so tight when she comes," Rabastan groaned.

They worked her into a rhythm then and Hermione found herself sliding almost all the way off Rabastan's cock even as Draco's cock slid all the way down her throat. When she rocked back the other way Rabastan filled her up and Draco slid all the way out until only the tip of him remained inside her mouth.

Mindlessly Hermione rocked between the two of them, moaning and humming, arching into every thrust and feeling like they'd claimed her body, stealing her ability to think and relieving her of any feelings but pleasure.

"Fuck, Mina… Bass… I'm gonna…" Draco moaned as Hermione tongued the head of his cock, probing the slit with her tongue and moaning at the salty, musky flavour of him.

"Me too, Pup," Rabastan said, his voice tight, "Shit, I need…."

A muffled sound of surprise had Hermione tipping her eyes up, Draco's cock rammed back down her throat and Hermione's whole body clamped tightly around both of them when she realised Rabastan had wrapped his hand around the back of Draco's neck, pulled him as close as they could get with her on her hands and knees between them, and they were snogging. They fucked her even harder as their tongues tangled around one another and Hermione squealed around the cock in her mouth as she came so hard her mind went blank and her whole body shuddered like she was having a fit.

Dual groans tore from the snogging wizards and Hermione trembled as she felt both of them fill her up with come, blowing their loads inside her. She worked hard to swallow every drop down her throat while her pussy sucked the come greedily from Rabastan's cock, wringing every drop of pleasure she could from both of them.

Both of them collapsed away from each other and from Hermione when they were done, slumping back as they panted and Hermione smirked to herself. She felt utterly boneless and sated, complete in a way she'd never felt before and she didn't even want to think about examining the feeling too closely. Resisting the urge to flop on her stomach when she doubted she would be able to get back up again if she did, Hermione crawled towards the edge of the bed.

Her legs wobbled precariously and she almost fell, catching herself with her hands as she made for the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked from behind her and Hermione glanced over her shoulder at the pair of them.

If they were unnerved about having snogged each other, they didn't show it. Both of them sprawled on opposite ends of the bed where they'd fallen after coming so hard.

"I need water," Hermione told them, panting raggedly and trying not to fall as she crossed the room and went into the bathroom again. She cupped her hands under the tap when she turned it, gulping down mouthfuls of the cool, refreshing liquid as she tried to get her heart-rate back under control.

Rinsing the taste of come from her mouth, Hermione cupped a handful of water and rinsed her lady parts as well, whimpering as she worked two fingers inside herself to try and clean out the come Rabastan had shot her full of. She would handle the rest with her wand and a charm, but she kind of liked the feel of the cold water against her flushed and swollen flesh.

"Mina?" Rabastan called from the bedroom, "Could you bring us water too?"

Hermione smirked to herself. She'd left her wand in the bedroom but she managed to find a sterling silver pitcher on the end of the enormous bathtub in Draco's en suite. Rinsing it, Hermione filled it with water and carried it back out into the main part of the bedroom. Draco had crawled up the bed and each of them were clutching the empty cups she'd brought them earlier.

"How can you even walk right now?" Draco asked of her, looking like he could barely move.

Hermione shrugged as she poured them both a drink.

"If she can still walk, we didn't fuck her well enough," Rabastan informed Draco, watching her over the rim of his goblet.

"There's always next time," Hermione smirked at them tauntingly as she set down the pitcher. Her eyes lit upon something else on the table by the bed and Hermione's mood brightened even more, "Hey look! Pizza!"


	18. Chapter 18: Penetration

**A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks so much for all the reviews you've been giving me. More that 100 on the last chapter! I'm so thrilled that you're all enjoying the smuttiness and the naughtiness and debauchery so very much. And here we have another 11k monster for you to enjoy. Don't I spoil you with such big chapters? **

**Now, a few important things. You might have noticed that I've begun including a playlist for the fic in each chapter. YAY! I hope you like it. I wanted to share some of the tunes I'm listening to while I type this out. Now, since every chapter has just been edited to include those, they're all currently sitting in my Doc Manager folder.**

 **So I need something from you. I did another edit through of the typos and things I had missed when I published the chapters. BUT I know I very rarely manage to catch every single one of them. This is where you come in. While all those chapters are sitting there in my folder, I would absolutely adore each and every one of you if you could do an edit for me too. I want this fic to be perfect without a single typo, spelling, or grammar mistake. Get your inner Beta on, pretty please, and shoot me a review or a PM if you spot anything that needs fixing, could you?**

 ***offers you cookies for your service***

 **Much love!**

 **xx-Kitten**

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 **WARNING: Triggers! All of the triggers! Seriously. This chapter is NOT SAFE FOR WORK. It contains scenes of a sexual nature. It contains some dub-con elements. It contains wickedness and debauchery and a little bit of drug abuse. You delicate little munchkins (if you're even still here this far into the game) will likely be upset by this one. You depraved souls are going to laugh and be delighted. **

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**Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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 **Chapter 18: Penetration**

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 _... "My friends say you're messing with my mind,_

 _But I'm already crazy, and I feel fine,_

 _As I cross this line, between wrong and right" ..._

- **Playing With Fire (Katie Armiger)**

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Hermione scarfed down the pizza that Trink had left for her under stasis, eating it greedily and feeling better than she had since before she'd been branded a Death Eater.

"How can you eat right now?" Rabastan asked, watching her as though she amused and intrigued him in equal measure. Hermione sat in the middle of the bed with her plate of pizza on her lap and her glass of milk in her hand.

"I've expended a lot of energy recently," Hermione smirked at him, "And been too ill to eat properly in days."

Rabastan shook his head while Draco was too busy eating his own pizza to comment.

"If you don't eat yours, I will, Bass," Draco warned the other wizard.

"You keep away from my food, Pup," Rabastan warned him, watching both of them with amusement. Hermione didn't think she'd ever seen either of them look as relaxed as they did then and she found herself immensely enjoying the view. None of them had bothered to don clothing again.

Her pizza was spicy and warmed her up from the inside, making her feel toasty and happy inside. She needed to get her head back in the game. She had a mission to complete and mind-blowing sex wasn't going to bring it undone. She needed to make the pair of men she was currently naked with fall in love with her. The idea that at some stage in the future they would be her husbands made Hermione feel funny inside, but she pushed aside the notions she had about being comfortable in their presence.

Rabastan still unsettled her, though not as much now as he did when he was fully dressed and eyeing her like she was some art exhibit he was trying to make sense of. Without his clothing he seemed a bit less intimidating, but not by much. Both of them oozed raw power and sex appeal the same way Snape did. They were powerful and they were dangerous; Hermione needed to remember that. She suspected it came as a result of practicing dark magic and engaging in acts that regular folk didn't dare consider.

"So, what kind of animal do you turn into, Rabastan?" Hermione asked of the dark wizard as she watched him pick up his own pizza and begin to eat it. He smirked at her around the food while he chewed, having the manners not to talk with his mouth full. Hermione kind of liked that.

"A wolverine," he informed her when he'd swallowed.

"Really?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise. She wouldn't have picked that. She'd found in her studies that the animal form one took said a lot about their personality. Peter Pettigrew had turned out to be very much a snivelling little rat. Sirius had been a loyal friend to the very end, boisterous and playful at all times and ferocious when angered. Everything she'd heard about James Potter suggested he'd been proud and valiant like the stag he could turn into. Professor McGonagall was the only other animgus she knew and Hermione believed the woman to be very much like a cat. Watchful but standoffish. Not afraid to be playful when the mood struck her but only too willing to unleash her claws when she needed to.

The wolverine represented none of those things. It was ferocious, cunning, daring and extremely powerful. As capable of bringing down large live prey as it was of driving a bear or a wolf from the kill and stealing whatever it wanted to eat. The wolverine always fought to win and never backed down from a fight.

"You embody an animal known for its gluttonous appetite and yet you're complaining about not being hungry?" Draco snorted, snatching a piece of Rabastan's pizza from his plate and eating it quickly. Rabastan bared his teeth at the werewolf.

"Steal my food again, Pup," the wizard warned, "And you'll find out how ferocious I can be."

Draco rolled his eyes at the threat, clearly unafraid.

"What about you, Mina?" Draco nudged her, trying to sneak food off her plate too, "Have you ever considered becoming as animagus?"

Hermione handed him the plate with the remaining slice of pizza on it, not wanting anymore and not in the mood to fight him off if he wanted it so badly.

"I might've done," Hermione smirked at him, "Though I'm not sure I'd have the patience for the gruelling process of becoming one. I'm not sure sucking a bay-leaf for three months would be something I was capable of."

"You're more adept at sucking other things," Draco replied bouncing an eyebrows suggestively. Hermione returned the cocky expression with a grin of her own.

"Were you to try it," Rabastan said, looking shrewd and thoughtful as he eyed her, "What do you think you would be?"

Hermione eyed him curiously, sensing he wanted to know what type of personality traits she believed she had. It was a probing question, actually. He wanted to know what she believed she might be based on how she saw herself.

"You tell me," Hermione replied evasively.

Her patronus was an otter, just like it had always been, but if she were to ascertain her current symbolic animal equivalent, Hermione supposed she would be a fox. A trickster. There to deceive them all into doing what she needed them to do.

"Something playful and elusive," Draco suggested, watching her as well as though he were trying to quantify her personality, "Smart too. And confident."

"I don't think I know you well enough to make a judgement yet," Rabastan informed her as he finished off his pizza and Hermione smirked.

"You say that as though you think that one day you will."

Both wizards smirked in return and Hermione could tell they were already planning the best ways to sweet talk her into marriage. She wondered if they were planning it together or separately. Idly, Hermione rubbed her eyes, her body begging her for sleep now that she'd been shagged and fed.

Vanishing her cup, Hermione crawled across the bed still naked, and climbed inside it, sitting between both males. She slid down under the covers completely until her head was cushioned on a pillow and the sheets covered her naked form.

"Worn out, Mina?" Draco chuckled, copying her as he got rid of his plate and cup before sliding down under the sheets and spooning up behind her. He looped one arm of her waist and tucked his knees into the back of hers.

"Sleep time, Draco," Hermione told him around a yawn.

Rabastan sat on her other side, watching them for a moment and Hermione wondered if he was debating whether to stay or go. He seemed more standoffish again now after they'd shagged her. Hermione was too tired to look into it. Rather than letting him consider the idea of leaving when she needed to get to work on better seducing him into falling for her, Hermione slid her hand across his washboard abs and tugged at him gently, pulling him across the sheets and closer to her where Draco spooned her.

"Is this your way of asking me to snuggle?" he asked drolly, amusement colouring his tone.

"I was promised snuggles before the shagging started," Hermione reminded him, still pulling at him while he leaned over to rid himself of his plate.

He didn't say anything else, but Hermione suspected from the hint of a smile that played at the corners of his mouth that he was pleased. Tucking one arm back and under his head, Rabastan slid down the bed until he laid beside her, turning to face her. Hermione slid her outer ankle between both of his and looped her arm over his hip, pulling him closer until she could burrow her nose into the smattering of hair adorning his chest.

"Cute as bloody pie," Draco muttered and Hermione smiled sleepily.

"Kiss me goodnight," she demanded, lifting her head until she was staring at Rabastan.

"Are you always this bossy?" Rabastan asked her, chuckling now.

Hermione nodded, leaning towards him and kissing his lips softly. She kept them closed, refusing to turn it into a snog lest she end up shagged again when she needed sleep. When she pulled back, she smiled at Rabastan before turning her head over her shoulder to Draco.

"You too," she whined when he wasn't forthcoming with his kiss.

"You just…" he protested, lifting his head from where he'd nuzzled his nose into the back of her neck.

"Don't complain that I just kissed him. I saw you kiss him earlier," Hermione retorted, cutting him off and Rabastan began to laugh wickedly at her answer.

Draco growled at her softly before he leaned over and kissed her soundly on the lips. Hermione sighed contentedly when she pulled away, feeling extremely snug and comfortable between the two of them.

She knew she ought not to. Not when Rabastan was as likely to turn on her as his brother and his sister-in-law. Hermione kind of got the feeling she was already winning Draco over though, and she suspected he might be willing to fight for her should Rabastan really try anything. Not that Hermione thought he would, really. He might be a dark wizard and he might be twisted, but he intended to marry her.

Rabastan shuffled closer to her as she closed her eyes and burrowed back into his chest, looping his arm over her hip and curling it around Draco's back. Neither of them commented on the fact that they'd snogged when they'd fucked her. Hermione suspected from their earlier words that it was probably a first for both of them, though not necessarily a first time kissing another man. She knew Draco at least had been forced to fuck other men, both in his arse and in his mouth.

She supposed that meant he'd had to kiss other blokes too. She didn't know about Rabastan, but he didn't seem overly concerned by the idea. Yawning again, Hermione began to softly hum the _Blackbird_ tune again, her fingers tracing nonsensical patterns over Rabastan's back even as she drifted off to sleep.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

She slept late the following day. Not that the weather was any indicator to tell her the time. Outside the Manor it stormed wildly, lightning cracked and flashed amid the dark grey storm clouds before thunder boomed so loud it rattled the windows. Hermione frowned in annoyance at the sound, lifting her head off her pillow slowly.

Taking stock of her surroundings, Hermione discovered that both Draco and Rabastan were still sleeping on either side of her. At some stage during the night Hermione had rolled onto her back and Draco's arm was thrown possessively over her midsection. Rabastan had rolled closer in his sleep, taking advantage of her position to burrow into her side like a small child. Her arm was strewn across the bed beneath his neck and his head was pillowed in the hollow between her shoulder and her breast.

She felt stiff from the restrained amount of bedspace she'd had during the night with both wizards cuddling her and her body ached from the exertions of the previous evening when she'd been so thoroughly shagged.

She also really needed to pee.

Moving carefully, Hermione peeled Draco's arm from across her stomach and moved it to the side. Moving Rabastan was harder. He snuffled and growled slightly in his sleep when Hermione peeled his arm off her too before slipping her hand under his cheek and lifting his head carefully, sliding her shoulders towards Draco so she could lay his head down on the pillow she was abandoning.

Draco sighed in his sleep when Hermione smoothed her hand over the scarred expanse of his back, her eyes dancing over the many scars littering the pale flesh. They were all claw-marks and teeth-marks, Hermione noticed, most likely from fights with other werewolves. Very carefully, she slid from between the sheets, peeling them down to free her legs before crawling towards the foot of the bed until she was free of both dark wizards.

She slipped from the end of the bed and padded on bare feet across the carpeted floor of Draco's bedroom. When she reached the bathroom, Hermione closed the door so that she could handle her bladder in peace. When she was through, she washed her hands and stared at her reflection.

She snorted at the sight. She looked very well shagged indeed. Her long loose curls were a tangled mess, almost rivalling the frizziness she'd dealt with before she'd taken the potion to change her appearance. Carding her fingers through it, Hermione tried to tame the mess, resorting to taking up a comb she found in Draco's vanity cabinet drawer and tackling the nest of knots that had ended up in her hair during the night. She was sure having such limited bedspace was to blame.

She'd been crammed between both wizards and they were clearly both very much in need of human contact, even while they slept. They'd barely given her an inch of space to move all night and Hermione suspected that had she not been so bone-wearily tired, she'd have had a terrible night's sleep.

"Ridiculous," she muttered to herself, cursing when the comb caught on the many snarls and knots in her messy hair.

Hermione stood there combing it until she could do so without hitting anymore tangles and while she did so she began the mental packing, stacking up the little boxes of information she had learned about the two wizards she'd left in bed that morning. She also made sure to put Mina firmly back in charge, feeding both wolves as she allowed her mind to dance between good and bad things.

Today was the day, Hermione knew. Today the retribution Harry and Ron sought over her supposed murder would come to pass. Hermione knew she needed to make sure she had an alibi for the entire day and as soon as she was finished on her hair, she crossed back to the door and opened it, being sure that both wizards beyond it – who were still sleeping soundly – would have no call for doubting she had been in their presence the entire time. Her alibi would be secure, for though she had no intention of being involved in the retribution her friends had planned, she didn't want to risk having anyone be able to say it might have in some way related to her presence among them.

Leaving the door open she crossed back over to the shower, hoping a warm soak under the hot water would ease the aches in her body from the exertions of the previous day. That would make sure that Rabastan and Draco would be able to get in if they wanted to and they would be able to vouch that she'd been in the Manor since yesterday evening and hadn't left at any stage.

Hermione sighed as she turned on the taps of the shower, stepping under the thick stream of spray. She felt like all she did these days was shower, sleep and shag people. Closing her eyes, Hermione leaned against the wall, simply letting the water wash over her. It felt nice on her aching muscles and she'd really rather have liked to crawl into the big bathtub across the bathroom. In fact, a long soak in that with some healing potions in the water would go a long way to making her feel better.

Despite her complaints about this new life she was living, Hermione found herself thinking about her friends and what they might be doing at this very moment. Were they out there this very second, enacting plans to retaliate against the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters over her 'death'? The idea seemed odd to her. In the past she had always cautioned against seeking retribution against the Dark Lord's forces. Even when Dumbledore had been killed and Harry had been so furious, they had done little to enact any revenge over the idea of his death.

How would Harry and Ron sell this plan to the others? The Order of the Phoenix was essentially a rebel force of fighters working to keep the Death Eaters from committing their crimes and doing bad things. What did it take for them to step over the line of taking preventative measures to instead finally fighting back? As much as she had cautioned against such things before she'd taken this assignment as a Death Eater, Hermione privately wondered why they didn't do more to stop Voldemort's forces.

There was a difference, she had learned, between 'fighting' for the greater good of the wizarding world and actually sacrificing for it. They had all sacrificed to it at some stage. Time. Money. Safety. Friendships. They had even paid for their beliefs through the death of their friends. The death of Sirius. Of Dumbledore. Hermione herself had fought alongside Harry, duelling Death Eaters and trying to thwart them at the Department of Mysteries.

But there was a difference between rushing headlong into danger to save someone's life and going out of their way to work against the Dark Lord's forces. Had her sacrifice pushed them over the edge? What did they plan to do? Ron had seemed confident that she would see it. That she would know what they had done in their apparent fury over her death. How had they rallied the Order? Who had they called upon? Hermione knew that they'd put the word out on Fred and George's radio show, Potterwatch, to say that she was numbered among the dead.

Hers was not the only name on that list. That list grew with every passing day. The list of people missing, people dead, people incarcerated for ridiculous things like being muggleborn, it grew with each passing day. Had they put out the word that the time had come to strike back? How many had answered the call when they decided enough was enough? That it was time to say 'to hell with what was right and what was decent, in favour of striking back'. Would they strike in many places? Just one? How did they plan to do it?

Hermione didn't know, though she knew that this very second her friends might be out there, planning an attack. She knew that she wished she were with them. She might've found that already this life had tainted her, made her colder, harder, less capable of comfortably standing in their company. But that didn't change the fact that she would prefer to be there with them. The time had come, in her opinion, for the wizarding world to rise up against Voldemort

She knew many would not, even those who had lost people. There was still too much left to lose. In the face of such reckless hate, of death and torture, what could they really do? Hermione knew what she would be willing to do. She knew that being branded a Death Eater had altered her perspective on things. That she would be willing to hurl a killing curse at any Death Eater who got in her way if she could get away with it.

That being said, Hermione was also painfully aware of things like the fact that though they'd each been branded Death Eaters and had both done wretched things, they were still people. They had hopes and dreams. Feelings. Fears. She supposed that was why the Order never used deadly force up until now. They recognised the Death Eaters – horrid as they were – as still being people. The trouble was that Hermione knew the people of the Dark Lord's team were willing to snuff out the existence of others, not only on orders from their leader, but simply because they liked killing

It had occurred to her that if they were willing to kill her and her friends, she was willing to kill them. That's what it boiled down to and the Bad wolf inside her soul was only too willing to kill for what she believed in. Hermione knew that if it came down to a choice between seeing Harry die or seeing Draco die, she would kill Draco herself. That if she had to choose between seeing Ron killed or seeing Rabastan killed, she would kill Rabastan.

At the end of the day, she had a role to play as a Death Eater that meant seeing wretched people live, watching idly as they committed heinous crimes. But every chance that she could get away with disposing of horrible people, Hermione intended to take it. The Mina inside of her was snarling and fighting with the Hermione part of her soul, but she was resolved. If it came down to it this very day that the retribution her friends enacted brought them into danger from the Death Eaters, Hermione would do everything in her power to protect them.

Even if it mean she might get caught.

"Mina?" a low, gravelly voice startled Hermione slightly and she hissed as she opened her eyes, still standing in the shower in Malfoy Manor.

Rabastan Lestrange stood naked before her, idly watching her. He looked mildly amused as he stared at her, not seeming to notice his own nudity whilst his eyes feasted upon hers.

"I didn't hear you come in, Rabastan," Hermione told him quietly, pasting a welcoming smile on her face as though she were pleased to see him and hadn't been standing there thinking about how she might willingly murder him to spare her friends if she had to.

"Thinking deep thoughts?" he asked casually, his green eyed gaze sharpening slightly as though he were utterly curious about her. As though he intended to learn all he could about her. Hermione realised with a jolt that he was trying to do just that. Either out of his own insatiable curiosity or on orders from his brother, or even the Dark Lord, he intended to get to know everything he could about her. To better manipulate her. To better find out where her loyalties might lie. To figure out just how much of a threat she might be.

"You will find, Rabastan," Hermione smiled slyly at him, holding her hands out towards him to invite him into the shower with her, "That I am always thinking deep thoughts, excepting times such as last night when pleasure overrides thought entirely."

"Indeed?" he asked, sounding very much like Snape as he cocked one eyebrow at her, stepping into the shower and taking the hands she'd offered to him, "Anything you'd like to share with me?"

"I've been puzzling the type of wrist movement and incantation I might use on a new spell I've been attempting to achieve," Hermione lied smoothly, though she had indeed been working on a new spell at some stage.

"Is that right?" he asked her, stepping closer to her under the spray until he leaned into her where she leaned against the wall. Hermione nodded her head as he lifted their joined hands over her head, pinning them to the wall and stretching her body out before him like a feast, just waiting to be devoured.

"Mmhmm," Hermione hummed, pressing her lips into a thin line before smiling slyly at him again, "One intended to freeze the body slowly from the inside out, beginning with the blood and working its way through until both the heart and the brain stop."

"Wouldn't you simply need to reverse the type of spell you used on Bella the other day to do that?" he asked her and Hermione tilted her head to the side as he leaned into her neck and kissed the skin softly.

"I thought so," Hermione nodded her head, "But that spell is much too fast acting. I want something slower. Less instantly noticeable. This spell would not be designed to bring on a swift and painful end, but a slow, creeping one that victims might not recognise until it was too late to try countering it."

Rabastan pulled back slowly to peer into her gaze.

"You truly are as wicked as her, aren't you?" he asked, tipping his head to one side thoughtfully, eyeing her like the idea intrigued him.

"Bellatrix?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes at him for the comparison, "I don't think so. For one, I'm not mad. And for another I'm less interested in challenging every person I see to a verbal duel of wit and cunning. Pitting myself against the inferior is a waste of my time."

"Merlin, you sound like him too. Snape," Rabastan chuckled, "Don't go getting too full of yourself, girl. You might find that you underestimate some of your new brethren."

"Ah, but I've had so little opportunity to interact with them whilst conscious," Hermione shrugged her shoulders delicately, trying not to squirm against his hold as he held her pinned there, restrained against the wall. He'd driven one knee between her legs, spreading them and laying her bare before him. Hermione got the feeling that while he'd seemed laid back last night whilst shagging her with Draco, he preferred to be in charge. From the way his grip was so tight on her wrists, Hermione began to think he might even enjoy bondage and other BDSM related things. The idea unnerved her. She didn't much fancy the idea of letting him tie her up or hold her down.

She certainly didn't like the idea of submitting to him, and she wasn't about to do so. Not for anyone. He was a snake in the grass just waiting to fill her up with poison, she was sure of it.

"Perhaps we ought to remedy that?" he suggested, raising one eyebrow at her.

"Where would be the fun in that? Right now I'm the enigma they do not understand. Interacting with them might make them realise I'm just the illegitimate daughter of a man I don't imagine many of them are very fond of."

"I see Snape's penchant for being unpleasant has made itself known to you," he smirked at her.

"It's a shared trait," Hermione retorted slyly, arching against his hold on her wrists until her breasts brushed against his chest and the junction of her thighs slid against his leg, creating delicious friction. She might be sore, but she had every intention of shagging him again. She needed to get him on board with the idea that she could be his whenever he desired, whilst also remaining elusive of personality.

"You believe you are capable of being unpleasant?" he asked, looking all the more intrigued.

Hermione smirked at him slowly, calling on her magic inside of herself to demonstrate the spell she'd been telling him about earlier. She didn't have her wand on her whilst in the shower, but Hermione had been practicing wandless magic since her days in DA with Harry and Ron in fifth year. She'd wanted to make sure that even if she were disarmed she would be able to do something. She had in fact mastered many spells that called for wandless magic, through diligent practice. She'd even managed to make a variation of the spell she'd used on Bellatrix.

This one designed to cool the body slowly. Not so much currently that she would freeze anything internally for Rabastan, though abuse of the magic had the potential to do so.

"Wandless magic from one so young?" Rabastan asked as he began to shiver under the effects of the spell.

"Not something you've managed yet?" Hermione asked challengingly.

She regretted it when he fixed her one of those detached yet mildly intrigued looks of his and Hermione felt the rush of magic wash over her. A powerful pleasure-based spell, it raced through her system like the high of chasing an orgasm and Hermione gasped audibly as her back arched of its own accord, her body desperately seeking friction again as the spell flirted with pressing an orgasm upon her.

"Would you like me to stop?" he asked, still wearing the same expression and Hermione felt a terrible sense of certainty that the expression resulted either from him concentrating or from him performing the magic. Meaning there was a chance he could have been performing magic every time she'd seen him wearing the expression. Had he been using Legilimency?

"No," Hermione admitted breathlessly, grinding herself against the thigh he'd pressed between her legs and biting her lip at the sensation as it crested within her before exploding into an earth-shattering orgasm that made her tremble and shudder. Her breath came in sharp pants as the spell went on, making every nerve ending crackle and tingle with pleasure.

She realised with a start that whatever spell he was performing on her, it was a reverse of the Cruciatus curse. Where that spell caused the body to writhe with pain and utter agony, this one did the same thing, only by stimulating the pleasure receptors within the victim.

"You are exquisite when you do that," Rabastan informed her calmly, watching her orgasm as though he very much liked seeing her unravel. His facial expression stayed the same. Just as detached. Just as curious. Yet his green eyes glowed like emeralds, glittering with dark and insatiable hunger. Hermione supposed that having spent so long in Azkaban he was as starved for sex as he'd been for human contact and company of any kind.

Hermione was beyond words as the spell rushed through her, pushing her again towards a peak of pleasure. All she could do was mewl incoherently. If it weren't for the pleasure clouding her mind, she might've been utterly unnerved by how easily he used the spell upon her. She might've also worried that if he could do this, he could surely perform the Cruciatus curse with as much ease and detachment.

"I can kill a person with pleasure like this," he informed her calmly, his voice even, his eyes glittering hungrily as Hermione rubbed herself against him, fighting against the restraining grip he had on her wrists. He never wavered in his hold on them; never relenting the grip, keeping her hands pinned above her head even as she tried desperately to seek more friction, to end the torture of the building pleasure with another orgasm.

"How?" Hermione gasped.

"Your body can only tolerate so many crests of sexual completion. Energy is depleted each time. With enough time, this spell can literally kill a person with pleasure. First the mind gives out, surrendering to unconsciousness in an attempt to fend off the pleasure, but much like the cruciatus curse, this continues to stimulate the nerve-endings, pressing the body further towards exhaustion. Have you ever watched an unconscious person orgasm, Mina? Some don't last that long. Sometimes the heart gives out from excessive stimulation as it races. Can you feel yours racing?"

He spoke in the same casual, even tone. Never once seeming alarmed or excited over what he could do. He discussed the notion in much the same way she imagined he might have discussed the weather.

Hermione could feel her heart racing inside her chest, her breath ragged as she panted, trying to control herself, fighting the pleasure he forced on her without lifting a finger.

"How many do you think I could press upon you before you lost consciousness, Mina?" he crooned to her softly, leaning into her ever so slightly and allowing her some of the much needed friction she yearned for.

The spell combined with the feel of his body pressed against hers pushed Hermione over the edge again and she huffed at the delightful agony of release, her pussy clenching and throbbing.

"It's not the same," she sighed as he lifted the spell, letting her sag ever so slightly in his hold, "Without being touched, it's not the same type of orgasm. Not as powerful."

"Better guaranteed to work," he shrugged, grinning slyly at her, "Are you sore after last night?"

Hermione blinked at him, feeling very tired again after the divine torment he'd pressed upon her.

"A little," Hermione admitted lowering her hands to press them lightly against his chest when he released her arms.

Rabastan nodded his head slowly, still watching her like she intrigued him immensely. It made Hermione slightly uncomfortable, but she worked hard not to show it. She needed him to think she liked him, maybe even fancied him. She needed to let him think that she was as twisted and perverted as he was.

She blinked again when he tugged her away from the wall slightly until she was standing on her own before he reached for the sponge and the soap, lathered them together and then began to bathe her. Hermione blinked at him in confusion.

"What are you doing?" she asked trying to confiscate the sponge from him as he rubbed soapy circles over her breasts and her stomach.

She squeaked when his free hand came up to curl around her jaw possessively, tilting her head back ever so slightly to a better angle before he kissed her soundly on the lips. Hermione sighed into his mouth at the feel of being kissed. He didn't snog her passionately and as though he meant to ravish her that second, yet nor was he gentle and adoring in his kiss as he'd been last night either. He kissed her almost as though he were punishing her for objecting as he bathed her, a chastisement and a warning not to do it again whilst still providing pleasure.

"Let me," he commanded when he pulled away from her lips several minutes later.

Hermione furrowed her brow at him but didn't bother objecting again. The truth was that it felt nice, the sponge smoothing over her skin and soothing her tormented nerve endings from his spell. The warmth of the water and the feel of his attentions also soothed her aching muscles some more so Hermione simply closed her eyes and allowed him to bathe her as she'd done to Snape a few days prior. Only unlike when she'd done it to Snape, Rabastan focused not only on cleansing her and caring for her. He pleasured her too.

While he worked the sponge down the length of her arms, he leaned into her, kissing her neck and peppering kisses across her collarbones as though he worshiped her. When he worked those soapy circles over her stomach and her hips towards her pussy, he ducked his head slightly, suckling first one then the other of her breasts into his mouth.

"Oh gods," Hermione sighed, tipping her head back as he suckled at her whilst working the sponge between her legs. He was thorough both in his bathing of her and his attention to her pleasure. He nudged her legs further apart as he worked the sponge further back, all the way up her bum between the cheeks.

She thought she might just drop into blissful release again as he knelt, scrubbing down the length of her legs. He accompanied the treatment by burying his lips and his tongue at her core and Hermione moaned softly when he curled one of her legs over his shoulder to better angle her hips so he could lick her out. He continued the treatment as he sponged the front and backs of her legs and her bum cheeks. Hermione protested with a mewl of displeasure too when he stopped licking at her once her lower half was bathed, rising to his full height once more and manipulating her easily until her back was to him.

Then he repeated the process, soaping her back carefully while he nibbled her neck and licked across the tops of her shoulders and her back. Hermione arched into him when he found an erogenous zone in the middle of her back between her neck and her shoulder blades. Butterflies rioted in her tummy every time he touched her there and Hermione marvelled at how sensitive it was.

When he was finished scrubbing her body, he started on her hair, ignoring her subtle protests by kissing her firmly again when she tried to take over. First he carefully lathered the shampoo into her hair, gently massaging the liquid against her scalp and cleansing her curls thoroughly. He kissed her as he tilted her head back into the spray of the shower to rinse the suds of the shampoo free and Hermione clutched him to her.

She didn't know what to make of his treatment of her. He seemed intent on caring for her and Hermione wondered what angle he was working. Was he trying to get her to trust him? Did he just feel the need to treat her like she was already his to care for, something that belonged to him that he meant to always see to personally, ensuring she was well tended? Hermione didn't know. What she did know was that it felt nice in a strange sort of way. It made her feel slightly vulnerable to be so at his whim, and yet the way he was so intent on her hygiene and her pleasure made her feel very well cared for indeed.

He briefly stepped out of the shower after working conditioner into her wet curls, returning with the comb she'd used earlier and Hermione sighed, leaning against his chest and letting his arms work around her as he combed the conditioner through her hair, allowing it a good long while to soak into the strands, better ensuring the silken curls the potion had inspired would be shiny and well nourished.

"Are you going to let me do this to you?" Hermione asked him softly as he continued combing her wet hair, being careful not to pull at the strands too harshly.

"Do you want to?" he asked her in a low voice that sounded husky to her ears. She got the sense that it was turning him on to look after her so.

"Yes," Hermione admitted, knowing it would better endear him to her to treat him as though she worshipped him – as he was currently doing to her.

"Then I won't object, if that's what you wish, Mina," he told her quietly, "Though it will have to wait until I am through ravishing you."

Hermione pulled back from him slowly, raising her eyebrows at him even as she rinsed the conditioner from her hair. Before she could ask him if he was joking, he leaned into her once more, capturing her lips with his again and Hermione sighed against his lips. This time he kissed her hungrily, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with hers, stroking and caressing her. Hermione tangled her fingers into his dark hair at the feel as he pressed her back into the wall once more, grinding his erection against her.

Whispers of desire slinked through her, rapidly making her feel like she was going to overheat with need. His fingers slipped down her body, pressing between them carefully before he burrowed two of them inside her. Hermione curled her leg over his hip, canting her hips to better ease the passage and open her slit to him. He snogged her hungrily; surely; as though he loved her. The idea unsettled her as she thought it, but that was how he kissed her. She felt as though she were melting beneath his touch and despite the abuse her nethers had received recently with over-use when she was unaccustomed to sex, his fingers slipped inside her with ease.

"Don't tease," Hermione gasped when he worked them into her and began to pulse them against her special spot, her knees nearly giving out from the sensation alone. She was already sensitive after the first two orgasms he'd pushed on her with the spell.

Rabastan nipped her chin as though in punishment for her protest before pulsing his fingers slower, yet no less torturously.

"You'll come again before I give you that, love," he warned her when Hermione reached for his cock with her free hand, wrapping her palm around his length greedily and using the water as a lubricant as she worked it up and down.

"Will I?" Hermione challenged, lifting her head from his neck to look into his eyes.

"Yes," he promised, utterly sure of himself. His eyes gleamed a brilliant shade of green, bright with pleasure, dark with desire, sparkling with intensity.

Hermione got the feeling he was right. He pumped his fingers in and out of her slowly, his thumb circling her clit but never touching it. She matched his pace inside her, pumping her hand up and down the length of his cock at the same speed he moved his fingers. He held her gaze as he slowly brought her undone and Hermione could feel the way his cock twitched at the sight she made. He really did seem to enjoy watching her break.

Biting her lip, Hermione tried to remain in control of herself. She tried not to give in to the sensations he was creating, but it was hopeless. Spots danced in her vision as she broke apart at the seams.

"Heh!" Hermione moaned softly and she watched through the tidal waves of pleasure as Rabastan's face broke into a wicked grin.

Removing his hands from her slit, he pushed her hand from his cock and aligned the tip to her still fluttering sheath before sliding himself deep inside her. Hermione groaned at the feel of being filled so fully even as him penetration prolonged her orgasm, making her head swim dizzily. She felt like she was drowning in pleasure and all she could do was cling to Rabastan as he began having his way with her.

Every deep thrust nudged at her most secretive places and drove her towards even more bliss. Hermione felt like she'd been set adrift when he methodically disarmed her every defence, taking her ability to resist and replacing it with burning pleasure and need. He held her tightly, keeping her snug and captive between his powerful body and the unforgiving wall of the shower.

"Started without me, I see?" Draco's voice suddenly intruded and Hermione opened her eyes to see him standing at the edge of the shower, stripped naked and watching them with a possessive gleam in his eyes. He looked a little like he wanted to maim Rabastan for shagging Hermione without him, but also like the sight of the man doing so aroused him beyond belief.

As Hermione trailed her gaze over his tightly muscled form to rest on his jutting erection she felt another orgasm overtake her once more and she sighed into Rabastan's shoulder. They made her feel boneless and helpless against the onslaught of pleasure.

"Think you can take both of us at the same time, love?" Rabastan asked, his lips by her ear as she clung to him tightly when her knees buckled.

Hermione felt a shiver skitter down her spine, realising he wanted to try turning her so Draco could press his long, turgid length of steel into her arse.

"I've never…" Hermione whispered, tendrils of fear creeping through her at the idea. She knew that eventually she would need to do so with both of them.

"We'll be gentle," Rabastan promised, turning her slowly until her back was to Draco even while he kept pumping his cock into her rhythmically.

"I…" Hermione began, fear making her relaxed body go tense.

She knew she could do it. She'd had anal sex with Snape. She knew it hurt somewhat, but could be fantastic. She also knew that she would be even sorer afterwards than she already was. She'd just not tried to fit anything back there while she had someone's cock filling up her pussy already.

"You don't have to, Mina," Draco informed her when he came up behind her in the shower, his strong, warm body pressing against her back. Hermione closed her eyes when the feel of touching him inspired that same sense of comfort and completion that had happened every other time he'd touched her.

"Have you ever been fucked in the arse, Mina?" Rabastan wanted to know, supporting most of her weight where she leaned into his chest while he leaned back against the shower wall.

"Once. Never with two partners," Hermione admitted breathlessly, trying to think rationally with Rabastan still filling her pussy up on every thrust. Draco had begun peppering kisses across her shoulder and the top of her back. She shivered when she felt Rabastan point to the erogenous zone he'd found earlier, showing Draco where it was. The werewolf immediately began to kiss her there.

"Tell me if you don't want me to, Mina," Draco murmured against her skin and Hermione felt his hands slide down the length of her back to rest on her bum cheeks intimately.

Rabastan's hands joined them and Hermione felt the way Rabastan clutched the pillowy flesh and began prying the cheeks apart.

"May I?" Draco asked, lifting his head to breathe in her left ear, his teeth nibbling her earlobe lightly. His fingers trailed tentatively against her rectum, asking her permission before he would even think about penetrating her there if she didn't want him to.

Biting her lip, Hermione closed her eyes, steeling herself to what needed to be done. Reminding herself that she needed to do this. That she needed to get used to taking two cocks at once. That eventually she was going to have to take three at once. She reminded herself that Draco had been brutalised and that he wouldn't do anything to her that she didn't want him to do. He hadn't said as much, but Hermione could sense that was the case.

"Promise me that you won't knot me there?" Hermione asked, turning her head far enough to meet his gaze.

His eyes were entirely silver as he looked back at her, one hundred percent Draco and not the werewolf within him.

"I promise I won't knot your arse, Mina," he vowed softly, "Not unless you beg me."

Hermione bit her lip some more, her eyes reflecting her fear and knowing Malfoy could see it. He offered her a kind and understanding sort of smile before he leaned in gently and kissed her lips softly. As he did so Rabastan adjusted the angle he drove into her at, nudging at her special spot and toppling her unexpectedly into orgasm once more.

"Okay," Hermione whispered when Draco pulled back from kissing her.

He raised his eyebrows and pressed very lightly with his fingers, asking if that's what she'd agreed to. Hermione nodded her head and he smiled widely. Muttering a lubrication charm he worked first one finger and then a second inside of her while Rabastan held her cheeks far apart.

"Oh God," Hermione breathed into Rabastan's neck, her body clamping down at the sting and the bite of pain from the intrusion.

She was still sore from what Snape had done to her, the muscle tight and unused to being penetrated that way.

"Hurts love?" Rabastan asked, his lips by her right ear as he continued to thrust up into her tight sheath. He'd slowed from his rapid pace, seeming to realise that what they were attempting was new and painful to her.

"Yes," Hermione whimpered.

"Get her a pain potion, Pup," Rabastan murmured to Draco, "She's not done this before and she's still sore from last night."

"Do you want a potion, Mina?" Draco asked her tenderly, two of his fingers very slowly gliding in and out of her arse.

Hermione bit her lip, her face pressed to the side of Rabastan's neck. She clung to him desperately, trying to think straight. Snape had warned her that pain potions would make it harder for her to get used to being brutalised and used this way, but Hermione wasn't sure she could take both of them without one. She supposed that was a bad thing, considering that everything she'd ever learned was that if it hurt too much, stop.

"No," she breathed raggedly, "No potions."

"Are you sure, love?" Rabastan asked her, sounding surprised, "It's going to hurt. All the preparation in the world won't keep it from hurting. Not if you've only done this once before."

"If I take a potion and it hurts too much you two might irreparably damage me," Hermione retorted, "I'd rather a little pain and to know when to stop than to risk being incontinent for the rest of my life or something."

Draco snorted at her answer.

"Tell me if it gets too much, Mina," he whispered in her ear.

He accompanied the words by scissoring his fingers inside her rectum, pressing firmly against the tight ring of muscle and trying to relax it, to widen it, to ready her for having more of him deep inside her.

"Heh!" Hermione whined in the back of her throat when the action pushed past pain and straight into pleasure, pressing her into another orgasm.

"Now, Draco," Rabastan murmured and Hermione could practically hear the pleased smirk in his voice.

She'd bitten down on his neck lightly, overcome with the sensations and so she couldn't actually see his expression, but she could feel that he was pleased by the idea of the two of them taking her thus. That he enjoyed the sounds of her pleasure and the way her body spasmed around his as wave after wave of endorphin-inducing pleasure crashed over her. It seemed to go on and on.

Another low whine left her throat as Draco murmured a secondary lubrication charm, withdrawing his fingers from within her and slowly pressing inch after glorious inch of his cock deep inside her arse. It occurred to her that she was either enduring the longest orgasm of her life or that Rabastan must be using his pleasure curse again as they both slowly impaled her until they were each seated deep inside her body. Her fingers dug into Rabastan's ribs.

"Lift the charm, Bass," Draco murmured by her ear.

"She'll cry," Rabastan warned him his hands still gripping her arse cheeks and pulling them wide to better allow Draco to take her.

"She'll be fine," Draco argued with him, "She's out of her head with the spell. Lift it. Now."

Hermione was dimly aware of the faint snarl she heard in Draco's voice as he ordered Rabastan to cease using the magic to make her continually orgasm. She heard the faint huff of annoyance Rabastan emitted before doing as he was bid. When the spell was lifted, Hermione became slowly aware of how wretchedly full she felt.

Overstuffed, even. She felt like she'd… well, she felt like she had someone's cock jammed in her arse and someone else's crammed into her pussy. And it stung and burned a little.

"Fuck," she moaned, gritting her teeth at the uncomfortable feel of taking them both at once. It felt good. It felt bad. It hurt. She wanted them both to pull out of her and just leave her alone and yet at the same time she wanted to keep them right where they were. Because for all that it hurt and for all that she felt like her body might literally split open, she felt utterly connected to both of them in a way she couldn't begin to describe.

"Are you alright, Mina?" Draco murmured into her ear.

"Don't move," Hermione bit out, "Don't move. Just… nobody move."

They moved.

"Ungh," Hermione groaned, and she could swear they both chuckled at her response.

"Moving seems like a bad idea, but it will make it hurt less, I promise," Draco rumbled in her ear softly.

"Fuck she's tighter than a fist when she's full like this," Rabastan muttered, building slowly to a rhythm that made Hermione ache in a way she didn't even understand.

Turning his head, Rabastan captured her lips with his, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with hers hungrily. Hermione could feel Draco peppering kisses over the side of her neck and across her shoulder too, driving her insane with the gentle touching when she was so impaled.

Suddenly, a wretched stinging burn began in her left arm and Hermione groaned aloud, nausea rolling through her foully.

"Not now," Rabastan groaned, breaking their snog as he and Draco groaned as well. It felt like a dreadful pulse of black magic had taken up residence inside her soul and Hermione realised with a jolt that she'd just been summoned by the Dark Lord.

"Worst fucking timing," Draco growled out as well, still thrusting himself in and out of her torturously.

"He can fucking wait," Rabastan growled, "He can just wait until we're done here."

"We're…" Hermione couldn't even finished her sentence because both wizards seemed to be in agreement that they weren't going anywhere until they'd both come deep inside her. They built to a rhythm, Rabastan pushing in as Draco pulled almost all the way out, Draco pushing in as Rabastan withdrew.

"We're being summoned," Hermione groaned, out of her mind with the mixture of pleasure as pain assaulting her senses, "Oh God… don't stop."

The ragged sob that tore from her throat didn't even sound human, but Hermione was too lost to care.

"Come for us, Princess," Draco murmured in her ear.

"Scream, love," Rabastan whispered in the other ear.

They both panted heavily and Hermione could tell from the way they gripped her so tightly and the way they grabbed at each other that they were both close.

"Kiss," Hermione moaned between them, curling one arm back to wrap around Draco's neck, pulling back from where she leaned into Rabastan until they could reach each other.

"Turns you on when we snog, doesn't it love?" Rabastan chuckled between each ragged breath he drew.

"Mhmmm," Hermione hummed truthfully, her eyes half-lidded and barely open as she watched them.

"Do we have to?" Draco asked, looking like he wasn't thrilled by the idea of snogging another bloke again.

Rather than insisting, Hermione turned her head until she could reach his lips, kissing him soundly. With her free hand she pulled Rabastan even closer. The angle meant that he could kiss her as well even as Draco's tongue slipped into her mouth.

Another wretched throb of magic through her arm ought to have pulled her back from the brink of pleasure but when Rabastan's tongue tangled with hers and Draco's in a hot, sweet mess, she felt the way she went over the edge again.

"Ah," the scream tore from her throat as she toppled one more time into orgasm and both men groaned, driving into her harder. It stung like fire but Hermione was lost to the sensations filling her up and overtaking all rational thought.

Her scream left both wizards snogging each other furiously, both of the clutching her tight, thrusting harder, penetrating deeper.

"Fuck!" Draco growled, pulling back as Hermione felt him swell slightly and she clamped down even tighter on him, fear of being knotted in the arse tightening her body in anticipation of the pain she knew would follow.

"Shit," Rabastan hissed suddenly driving himself deep and stilling as he pumped her full, spilling himself inside her. He turned his head and snogged Hermione as he did so, his lips bruising against her own.

A strangled sort of snarl left Draco and he buried his teeth against her shoulder right where he'd bitten her the night before, biting down on her flesh as he too drove himself deep and his release slammed through him. Hermione's vision spotted with pain and pleasure and utter exhaustion from so many orgasms.

She was sure she blacked out for a moment or two.

"Bloody hell," Rabastan groaned when he broke their fervent snog, "Snog him too, love."

He nodded his head at Draco. Hermione didn't even pause to consider the blood on his mouth. She was too high to care. She snogged Draco as well and he groaned contentedly in his throat, a deep rumble coming from inside his chest as though he'd never felt so good.

A third pulse of the evil magic in her arm rocked through all three of them and Hermione's knees gave out. She'd have slipped right to the floor in agony if not for still being impaled by both wizards.

"Fuck, he's furious," Rabastan spat through gritted teeth, clutching his forearm tightly, "We've got to go."

Hermione was too busy dry-heaving at the foul nauseas rolling through her.

"Easy, love," Rabastan muttered, "Shit. This is the first time you've been summoned."

"She doesn't have her cloak and her mask with her, Bass," Draco reminded, "Sorry Mina."

Hermione whimpered as he withdrew his softening member from her body, making her ache and sting painfully. The relief of no longer being fucked in the arse warred with the strangest sense of emptiness inside her.

"Shit!" Rabastan cursed colourfully, also pulling out of her.

Hermione's knees gave out and she slipped to the floor of the shower between them when Draco stepped back from her to get out of the shower.

"Fuck. Are you alright Mina?" Draco asked, reaching down and scooping her into his arms. He carried her out of the shower and sat her on the bathroom counter, using the towel he'd grabbed to dry her off carefully.

"Hold her still, Pup. Mina, love, you need to drink this now," Rabastan told her, also disembarking the shower and beginning to dig in the vanity cupboard, "It's a pain potion. It will make it so you can get through the bloody summoning. It takes away all aches and pains so you won't feel them for a few hours. You don't have time to be sore with the summoning. Pup, do you have any Pepper-Up potion in here?"

"No. I used it all," Draco admitted.

"Shit. Whiskey it is then. Drink this too Mina," Rabastan pressed a bottle of firewhiskey into her hand.

"I'm fine," she shooed her hands at them, "Just tired."

"You're not fine. The first time being summoned hurts like a cunt," Draco argued with her, "Bass, do you have a spare mask?"

"Yeah. I'll get it. We don't have time to stop at Snape's now."

"Get your gear then, I'll get her dressed," Draco waved him out of the room and Hermione watched from Draco's arms as Rabastan hurried into the bedroom, scooping up the boxers and shirt he'd discarded last night and pulling them on.

She dutifully drank the potion she'd been given, sighing in contentment when it took away the aching sting in her bottom and the burn in the rest of her over-abused muscles. The fire-whiskey burned going down, but it woke her up and got her going too. She watched Draco take a swig of it once she handed it to him.

"Get dressed fast, Mina," he instructed her, "We've got to get to the Dark Lord, wherever he is. He's going to be furious with us for being late as it is. Don't worry about your hair or anything, just get your dress on."

"Where are my knickers?" Hermione asked him, watching with amusement when he dashed across the room and began to dress as fast as he could. He didn't bother with boxers before pulling on some trousers and he forewent a t-shirt in favour of a long leather tunic that reached mid-thigh. Both were jet black.

"Leave them off," Draco told her, "We don't have time to find them. And I may have shredded them with my claws at some point last night. Just put your dress on and the put this on too."

He threw a long black cloak with a deep hood at her. Hermione caught it one handed, already shrugging into her dress despite not knowing where her bra or her knickers were.

"Are you two ready?" Rabastan skidded back into the doorway and Hermione balked at the sight of him.

He'd donned his robes again, making him look all the more intimidating than he did whilst naked. He'd also donned a heavy black cloak identical to the one Draco had thrown at her and the extra one he was pulling on himself. The hood was drawn up by both wizards, covering their hair to better hide their identity. The sight of the terrible identity-protecting mask upon his face made him look terrible and cruel. The mask bore only a few vertical slits over the mouth to breathe through and snake-like slits for eyes. It too was black and it covered his face entirely.

"Put this on, love," Rabastan told her, hurrying forwards when he saw her frozen and staring at him in horror.

He didn't seem to heed the fact that her heart had suddenly been struck full of fear at the sight of him dressed for battle.

"Mina?" Draco asked when Hermione took three rapid steps back from Rabastan the closer he came to her.

Hermione jumped when she bumped into Draco, twisting in his hold when he gently gripped her shoulders.

"Draco?" she asked, paling further at the sight of him also wearing his Death Eater mask.

She'd forgotten about this part. She'd forgotten that when they went out into the world, when they weren't simply in the presence of each other and of the Dark Lord here in Malfoy Manor, they would wear the masks to protect their identity lest the Aurors put warrants out for their arrests.

Draco seemed to be able to sense or perhaps smell her fear because he reached up to peel back his mask as he stared down at her.

"Didn't Snape tell you about the masks and the robes?" Rabastan asked her, looking confused as he too jerked up his mask to look at her.

"He did…." Hermione murmured, trying to calm her fear, "I just… wasn't expecting…"

"That they'd look so creepy?" Draco smirked, "Yeah, that's kind of the idea. Argh!"

Hermione hissed between her teeth and clutched her arm again, gagging when another pulse of the summoning magic burned through her magical core, scathing across her own magic wretchedly and making it clear they were in trouble for not getting there sooner.

"We're going to pay for being late," Rabastan hissed, also clutching his own forearm, "Mina, put the mask on. Now. We've got to go."

"How do we even know where he is?" Hermione asked.

"Just…." Rabastan looked frustrated now and Hermione held still when he affixed the mask to her face, tucking her hair under her hood while Draco pulled her hood up.

"Take my hand, Mina," Draco told her, "And close your eyes."

"You're taking her?" Rabastan asked.

"She's not old enough to apparate on her own," Draco reminded him, "She's still sixteen."

"Fuck! I forgot," Rabastan said, "I'll do it. Both of you. Come on."

He held his hands out to the pair of them, clearly waiting to apparate them away.

"Just close your eyes Mina," he warned her.

Hermione nodded, fear riling in her belly and combining with the pain and nausea of the summons, making her feel light-headed and horrible. She closed her eyes as she slipped her hand inside Rabastan Lestrange's, clinging to him tightly.

With a twist and a jerk behind her navel they all disapparated with a sharp crack.


	19. Chapter 19: Retribution

**A/N: I'm not sure you guys are ready for the turn this story is about to take. I've been a bit hesitant to post it. You're all going to lose your minds. Don't kill me, mkay?**

 **Much love! xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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 **Chapter 19: Retribution**

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... "Screaming in the dark,

While we just play our part.

I'll play right along,

Like I don't know what's going on" ...

- **Make a Move (Icon for Hire)**

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Chaos. She opened her eyes to utter chaos.

She didn't know how the magic worked, but Rabastan had followed the summons and apparated all three of them into the heart of the Ministry where the Dark Lord and his forces were duelling fiercely with the Order of the Phoenix. Fear squeezed her heart tight and Hermione immediately began to run through the melee.

She hadn't expected this. She knew that Harry and Ron wouldn't take the idea of losing her to the Death Eaters as a spy lightly, but her faked death was being fiercely avenged. All around the Ministry jets of light bounced dangerously, ricocheting off walls and striking people wickedly.

"Argh!" she shouted, diving out of the way when a stray stunning spell was fired in her direction.

She spotted Tonks on the other end of it, clearly having spotted the three new arrivals to the battle and trying to take them out before they could begin fighting. Draco and Rabastan split off from her, engaging other Order members and people Hermione didn't even know in battle.

Running through the chaos, Hermione realised something wretched. She was going to have to fight her friends. Without actually fighting her friends. She could hear the scream of Killing Curses being thrown around and Hermione blanched in horror when she spotted Ron and Harry in the midst of the fighting, hurling hexes everywhere. They weren't playing to disarm or to wound anymore.

Hermione watched in horror as Harry flicked a Sectumsempra at Macnair, bringing the other wizards down with a wretched gurgle as his throat was slashed. Beyond the two boys she could see the rest of the Weasleys, all of them duelling fiercely. They too were throwing hexes to kill and to maim. There weren't just stunning spells being thrown about from them. Hermione looked on in shock as Mrs Weasley threw a Killing Curse at a Death Eater, watching the unknown Death Eater fall to the floor in a crumpled heap, utterly dead at the hands of Molly Weasely.

Behind the masks, Hermione had no idea who was who. She also realised with a jolt that her friends wouldn't know it was her and not to attack her. This was bad. If she shot to wound or stun, she would be hurting them. And she wouldn't kill them, obviously. They were her friends. She refused to kill anyone unless she had to, though the Death Eaters were fair game if she could get away with it in defence of her friends.

"What are you doing?" a furious voice snapped at her from behind a Death Eater mask as Hermione ran erratically across the battlefield, ducking and dodging as dangerous hexes were cast willy-nilly all over the place.

Hermione knew that silken voice.

"Snape?" she asked hopefully.

"Come," he snapped, snatching her hand and jerking her down a side corridor and behind a wall, out of the way of the main fight, "Where have you been?"

"We were late," Hermione admitted, "Rabastan and Draco and I."

"Yes, I know. You'll be in trouble for it later unless all hell breaks loose," Snape warned her, clutching her to his chest and erecting a shield charm when a stray spell flew past them, bouncing off the opposite wall and almost hitting them both. "I need you to find Lupin. He needs you for something."

"But I… he won't recognise me," Hermione protested, "They're throwing killing curses. I just saw Molly kill someone."

"They have a job to do and a daughter to avenge," Snape retorted.

"Ginny?" Hermione choked, fear and pain squeezing her heart at the idea that Ginny had been killed.

"You! Idiot girl," he growled, "They are all here under the pretence of avenging you. Did you not see the statue?"

"Statue?" Hermione asked, not sure what he was talking about.

"Come on," he growled.

A Death Eater ran by looking like he meant to find a place to hide and Hermione held her breath when Snape used his wand to kill the man.

"You just…"

"Don't let anyone see you turn on the brethren, Mina," he told her silkily, leading her down another passage, "But kill whoever you can."

"What about the Order?"

"Stun them. Make it look real that you're duelling them but don't do irreparable harm. You don't want to be questioned for going easy on Order members," Snape growled into her ear, manoeuvring her into a corridor and pointing to a main statue in the midst of the fight.

It was of her. A life-like sculpture of how she'd looked as herself without the potion. It gleamed bright gold and enormous from the middle of the room. There was an inscription along the bottom that read, "Gone but never forgotten. Light in the Darkness."

"It is a distraction. They have turned from their original mission, Mina. They have resorted to all-out guerrilla tactics and war now. Without you, things have changed. They are, as we speak, freeing all incarcerated mudbloods and half-bloods from Azkaban. The extraction team is led by Hagrid. In another part of the Ministry, all records of muggleborns are being removed so they cannot be used to Trace and find the prisoners. They are also closing Hogwarts. Minerva is overseeing that. Our plans have changed. You and I will not be returning to Hogwarts after all."

"But the Horcrux?" Hermione said, firing a Killing curse at a female Death Eater whose hood had fallen from her head though her mask remained. She dropped, dead as a stone.

"Astrid Parkinson," Snape told her the woman's name, "Pansy's eldest sister. She will be sorely missed by the brethren."

Hermione felt a twinge of guilt over her actions before realising she'd just saved George's life, spotting the red-haired twin with his back to them while he duelled with someone else. The witch had clearly meant to sneak up behind him and hit him with a Killing curse. Her remorse fizzled and died inside of her and Hermione felt the searing agony of the newest rip she'd just created inside her soul. It stung a little, but also felt kind of good. Like an open-palmed slap on the rump, it tingled the nerve-endings, engaging them and heating them in a way she suspected could become very addictive indeed.

"Who are all these other people?" Hermione wanted to know, her eyes scanning the chaos and spotting a number of unfamiliar faces, witches and wizards she'd never seen before that were wickedly duelling the terrifyingly masked and hooded Death Eaters.

"People whose families have been torn apart by war. This mission was called to avenge the fallen and to rip a hole in the Dark Lord's plans. They have upped the stakes, Mina. Now, I need you to find Remus and we need to both be seen duelling. Use a slashing charm to wound, or a stunning charm if you are too afraid to wound. Don't go easy on them because they are your friends. They don't recognise you and they will kill you if they mistake you for a Death Eater."

"Should I take off my mask so that the Order who know me will recognise me and refrain from killing me?" Hermione asked him.

"Yes," Snape said, snatching it from her face, "We will claim it was lost in the battle. Make sure to take a hit or two as well, to make it look genuine. Now go. Find Lupin."

Hermione nodded as Snape shoved her towards the battle once more where she could see Remus in the distance. She ducked low as she ran, firing hexes willy-nilly at the Order and the Death Eaters alike. She spotted Fred about to hit Rabastan with a curse and though it smarted her sensibilities, she needed Rabastan alive. Firing a tickling jinx at Fred from behind, Hermione ran at him and shoved him down behind a hunk of rubble.

"Not that one, Fred" she hissed at him, "I need him."

"Hermi…" he began his eyes searching her face. Her caught himself before saying her full name, his expression suspicious and concerned for a moment before he fully recognised her and realised she wasn't as much of a threat.

Hermione cancelled her jinx quickly, ceasing the tickling sensation he was attempting to fight.

"Hit me, Fred," she commanded, "Punch me. I need this to look genuine."

"I can't hit a girl…" he protested, poking his head up and firing a Sectumsempra at another Death Eater – Lucius, by the glint of his long platinum hair where his hood had flown off.

Hermione winced as she watching the man go down, screaming in agony and clutching at his thigh and his torso where blood immediately began to spurt, his robes gaping open and revealing the ravaged flesh beneath.

"You can. Do it, or I'll have to stun you and leave you here! I need it to look like I've been caught up in the fighting and like I've done my job. I need the cover."

Fred glanced at her again, looking worried. She could tell he didn't want to do it. That it went against every instinct he had to turn on a friend - a female friend at that - and punch her in the face. But he had no choice. Hermione turned her wand on him threateningly, her eyes begging him to do as she'd asked and Fred simply reacted. Firing a Bombarda curse right at their feet he swung at her with his free hand, clipping her jaw just before the blast threw her back several feet.

It effectively made her look like she'd been fighting hard, covering her in rubble and causing a piece of the floor to cut her lip and graze her arms when she landed badly. It gave a legitimate excuse for her lack of mask too. Hermione groaned and hissed as she rolled across the dusty, rubble-strewn marble floor of the Ministry entrance hall. It hurt like hell as she bounced over hunks of rubble, uneven flooring and the fallen bodies of Death Eaters and Order members alike.

Rolling to her feet as quickly as she could, Hermione ignored the twinges inside her body at the fall. She tried to block out the sight of someone she recognised to be Dedalus Diggle – an Order member she'd met at more than one of the Order meetings in the past. His eyes were open and lifeless, staring up at the ceiling, his wand still clutched in his fist where he'd fallen.

Hermione felt ill at the idea that right now, Order members, friends and innocent people who'd already been hurt for fighting back, we're dying. It was a part of war, she knew, but there was still something about the sight of the man she'd once known – a man she'd shared meals with in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place more than once – as he lay there dead, that squeezed her heart more painfully than any hex or curse could have done.

She was engaged in a duel by someone she recognised as Hannah Abbott and Hermione cringed when she threw a slicing hex at the girl, covering her arms in little cuts that would sting but not do serious damaged. Narrowing her eyes on the other girl and knowing she needed to make the fight look genuine – something made easier by the fact that Hannah didn't recognise her and believed Hermione Granger to be dead – Hermione twirled her wand, hitting the other girl with a stinging jinx that caused her to cry out. Shielding against a return-fire stinging jinx, Hermione flicked a Stunner at the other girl and watched her crumple to the floor.

Just as she was turning, her eyes scanning the hall for Remus, for Severus, for Draco, for Harry or Ron or Rabastan, or indeed anyone else that she knew, Hermione was struck from the side by something solid and strong, moving at high speed. Powerful male arms wrapped around her and Hermione squealed as she was thrown sideways several feet, hitting the ground again and rolling on impact.

"Who?" Hermione gasped when she landed beneath a man who smelled vaguely familiar. Like cloves and apple pie. She couldn't put her finger on why she knew the smell, but there was something about it that niggled at her memory even as she writhed and kicked beneath the wizard, trying to throw him off her, trying to see who he was and find out why he had just tackled her like some thug.

"You were nearly just killed," he growled in her ear before pulling back to peer down into her face. Hermione felt sure she didn't recognise his voice at all, though his scent continued to invade her nose and her mind raced, trying to pinpoint where she knew it from. He wore a Death Eater mask and robes, so Hermione assumed that he had tackled her thinking her to be on the same team as him – something that seemed unlikely and highly out of the ordinary given that many Death Eaters had the Slytherin mentality when it came to self-sacrifice. Being that they avoided it and looked out for themselves first at all costs.

He jerked his mask up quickly with one hand, using the other to balance over her whilst pinning her on to the floor easily with his body. He was older than her by a number of years, though undeniably handsome in a roguish sort of way. Ink-black hair and grey eyes peered down at her and Hermione frowned, the adrenaline racing through her body rejecting any idea that she knew him, not at all recognising him and not appreciating being pinned to the floor by some random and unknown Death Eater in the middle of a battle.

"Who are you?" Hermione demanded, "Get off me this instant!"

"Stop struggling," he commanded, his voice harsh and serious. He had the type of unrelenting, merciless sort of voice that made her shiver slightly. She had to fight not to obey the command on pure instinct.

"Let me go then. Before I hex you," Hermione retorted.

"Hush and hold still, beautiful. I need you alive. I can't risk exposing myself after all this fucking time just to have you accidentally killed in the cross-fire by a stray spell from one of your best friends, Hermione."

Hermione went still.

"What did you call me?" she hissed, her wand twitching in her palm and trying to aim at him, intent on silencing him before he could give away her secrets. She didn't know how he knew what he knew, but it would buy him an untimely death as soon as she could get free enough to curse him.

"I'm not who you think I am. Take a look - a real look - at my face," he commanded of her, pinning her wand arm to the ground when she went to hex him, to kill him for knowing her secret.

There was something in his tone that made her think he urgently needed her to recognise him. That she was making a mistake and would regret it very much if she tried to kill him on instinct without even taking the time to figure out who he might be. Stilling suddenly, Hermione peered into his face carefully. She noted the grey of his eyes and the jet-black of his hair. He was handsome too. Perhaps in his early thirties. His appearance niggled at her memory and she was sure she knew him from somewhere.

"Sirius?" she breathed, her eyes dancing between both of his as a sudden wave of familiarity crashed over her. It didn't feel quite right, but he looked alarmingly like Sirius had done. At least, like he'd done in the pictures of him when he'd been younger, before Azkaban had ravaged his good looks.

"Close, beautiful, really close," he grinned wickedly at her, looking more like Sirius Black than she could ever have imagined, "Right family. Wrong brother."

"Regulus?" Hermione asked, her eyes widening, "Regulus Black? I thought you were dead."

"So did everyone else. Now, I believe Remus needs to see you," he told her.

Hermione watched as he clambered off her, poking his head out from behind the fallen pillar they'd landed behind. He nearly got his ear hexed off for his trouble, ducking down again and clutching the side of his face where he'd clearly been hit with a stinging jinx. It swelled rapidly, turning a vivid shade of red beanth his loose black hair. The hex had thrown his hood from his head, and he still had his mask up so she could see his appearance.

"Fuckers! He's across the hall," Regulus muttered, clutching his ear and looking annoyed, "And he's looking for you. Oi! Remus!"

He didn't shout, exactly, but he did call the werewolf in a voice that would draw attention were it not for the shouting, the screaming of curses and the booms as the battle waged on. All around them people continued to fight.

Hermione watched with her heart in her throat as she spotted Harry. He was duelling fiercely with someone who looked alarmingly like Dolohov. Firing a Sectumsempra at the man, Harry made a face when the wizard blocked the spell and returned fire with his signature curse, a purple jet of light streaking across the battlefield towards Harry. Before Harry could get his own shield up, Ron dove in front of him, shield at the ready and in tandem Harry fired a nasty looking Slicing Hex at Dolohov. The dark wizard howled in agony as a nasty cut appeared on his right cheek and along his jaw, just barely missing his throat. Had he not moved slightly, the hex would have severed his carotid artery and he'd be bleeding out.

Dolohov ducked behind a pillar after that and Hermione watched her two best friends turn on the other Death Eaters throughout the hall. Clearly spotting Voldemort – who appeared to be duelling with a large group of unknown Order inductees that Hermione didn't recognise – Harry fired a Killing Curse at the evil wizard from behind. Unfortunately Rodolphus was right there by the Dark Lord's side and he jerked the Dark Lord out of the curse's path.

He nearly got himself killed by the Dark Lord for his trouble too when Voldemort turned on him, wand drawn just as the jet of green light flew by him, just missing by inches before it struck one of the fighting Order inductees and the mousy-haired witch fell to the floor dead. Hermione winced, knowing Harry would never forgive himself for accidentally murdering an innocent young woman who was on the same team as them. Knowing he'd never forgive himself for killing anyone, period.

"Shit, someone needs to get Potter out of here before he gets himself killed," Regulus hissed from beside her, watching the chaos and shooting an Entrail-Expelling curse at someone who looked vaguely like Thorfin Rowle. The bastard was too quick with his shield to be hit by the unkind spell.

"Oi! Remus!" Regulus called again, ducking back down behind the hunk of what she suspected had once been a welcome desk where he and Hermione were partially concealed.

Hermione peeked over the edge of the pillar too and she watched Remus look in their direction. His eyes were lupine and he immediately started towards them when he spotted her, his gaze clashing with hers and flashing with recognition. Hermione looked on in awe as he raced towards them. He fired hexes with one hand, killing a masked Death Eater across the hall and deftly dodging a spell fired at him in return from someone else as he ran. Hermione watched how quickly he could actually move, lycanthropic speed lending him power to cross the room in a blur. He dodged spells and he even savaged someone like a feral beast as he came, slashing claw-tipped fingers across the throat of a Death Eater Hermione hadn't learned the name of.

He dove behind the rubble she and Regulus were using for cover. Hermione gasped when Regulus pulled his mask back down as soon as Remus recognised him, before he began aiming hexes and curses all around the room, taking out a number of other Death Eaters as he did it. He wasn't discriminatory with his Killing Curses as he Avada-ed as many people as he could.

"There you are!" Remus growled at the pair of them, at least partially wolf if the yellow glow of his eyes, the snarl in his voice and the claw tipped fingers he sported were any indication. "You're not going to like this, Mina."

Hermione balked when Remus grabbed her with both hands, dragged her backwards into his lap, nosed her hair to one side and suddenly bit down hard right on the back of her neck up under her hair. His sharp fangs tore into her flesh and despite the pain-numbing potion Draco and Rabastan had given her before leaving the Manor – which had been doing a fine job of helping her ignore the feel of the pain she would otherwise be in – Hermione felt like she'd just been hit with the Cruciatus curse all over again.

"Argh!" Hermione cried out, writhing in pain at the bite.

She hissed through her teeth when she felt a sudden surge of powerful, earthy magic course through her, originating from the bite, from Remus himself. It poured over her magical core, pulsing and throbbing strangely. It didn't hurt exactly, but it didn't feel nice either. She groaned when she felt the way the magic seemed to seek out the newest rip in her soul from killing Astrid Parkinson and Hermione gasped, her eyes widening as she felt the magic settle deep into the rip.

Unlike the terrible aching blackness of the Dark Mark and the magic the Dark Lord had poured into the rip created by Charles Torball's sacrifice, the earthy magic that rushed through her emanating from Remus's bite was warm. It made her feel strangely good. Like she'd just awoken in the middle of a forest, the soft soil beneath her, the grass tickling her cheek, the sound of birds tweeting in the trees. In fact, it made her feel strangely grounded, like she'd been adrift and now was once more on solid land.

It warmed her from the inside out, rushing into the tear, swirling through it, filling the rip with its warmth and its earthy wildness. Indeed, it felt almost as though she'd been healed by having his magic repair the damage, filling the little void that had been created and smoothing away the hurt. It felt a little bit like the calming, relaxing effect touching Draco seemed to have on her and yet completely different. Uniquely Remus. As though a little of his own essence, his own life force had joined with hers. For a terrible moment she wondered if he had somehow turned her into his own personal Horcrux, but she somehow doubted it.

This didn't feel like the blackest of black magic. It felt light. It felt good. It felt strangely right. Like he'd always been meant to push his magic along the length of hers. She could tell in an instant that it had something to do with his lycanthropy. Something lupine and wild and powerful, yet earthy and natural and right. She didn't understand it yet, nor did she know what he was doing or even what he'd really done, but Hermione was determined to find out.

She was acutely aware of the feeling because it was entirely on a magical and a mental level. The feel of his magic filling the rip in her soul was brought sharply into focus because it felt so inherently good but also because the Pain-Numbing potion in her system meant that all physical feeling was very dim in comparison to the psychological. Her body was numb, but her mind and her soul remained very much in full working order and as such the pure goodness of Remus's magic seizing hold of her own felt almost orgasmic by comparison to what the Dark Lord had done to her.

"What did you do?" Hermione groaned when Remus released her, his teeth pulling free of her skin once more and his tongue swiping once over the wound left behind. His arms were still tight around her waist and he clutched her too him almost as though he didn't want to let her go.

"I'll explain later," Remus muttered in her ear, "Be safe Hermione."

Before she could ask him anything else he pushed her off his lap once more, setting her to one side of him and tucking his feet beneath himself as he crouched and turned his attention to Regulus.

"Regulus? You know your mission?" he asked of the Death Eater who'd tackled her out of nowhere, surprising the hell out of her.

Regulus glanced down at them from where he was aiming Killing curses all around the room before he ducked down beside Remus quickly.

"It was my bloody idea, Moony," Regulus replied, "Go. Get them out of here. The Dark Lord's just called for more reinforcements. Get everyone out before it ends in a blood bath. Things are already bad enough."

Remus didn't argue. Hermione watched in awe as he dropped his head back and howled like the wolf he could become. The sound was obviously a signal. All around the hall, Hermione watched as every Order member and everyone fighting for the Order suddenly ceased everything. They stopped duelling. They dodged final spells before coming to a standstill. Many of them reached for other members, clutching the hands of those nearest to them in a move that was obviously well-planned and perfectly executed. Hermione watched the way Harry flicked a final Sectumsempra, ironically enough, at Regulus and Hermione in their hiding spot, though he didn't seem to realise they were there. When she tried to dodge it, Hermione hissed as the spell caught her across the middle while Regulus hit the deck. Remus was already gone, having dashed at lycanthrope speed across the hall and over to Tonks. Hermione looked on as Harry reached for Ron with one hand and for Neville – who Hermione suddenly spotted amongst them – with the other. They all dodged the last of the spells before they all turned on the spot and disapparated with a series of cracks that echoed all around the hall.

The mess left behind was wretched, stray spells aimed at members blasted off furniture and walls when the people they were aimed at suddenly disapparated.

They were gone. In a perfectly orchestrated desertion, every Order member still drawing breath – even the injured – were suddenly gone. Many of the dead not among the Death Eaters were also taken with them. Hermione rose to her feet slowly, the pain-potion in her system numbing her so that she could barely feel the diagonal gash across her midriff where Harry had accidentally hit her with his curse.

Bodies littered the hall. Almost all of them were Death Eaters and Hermione suspected from the way so many of the Light left behind were positioned that particular groups had died. It almost seemed as though they'd planned it perfectly Like everyone had a buddy system. In triads they had all arrived and they'd left the same way. One person was the designated Apparater and the other two – dead or living – were to be Side-Along Apparated to safety.

Hermione would bet that Ron had been behind that idea. They all had to keep an eye on two other people. They had to stay in their unit, no matter what happened. She'd even bet they all had designated areas that they would have apparated to. Different destinations so as not to lead the Death Eaters to any one main location and thus giving away everyone's location.

If she was being honest, it was a stroke of pure genius. They would use Potter-Watch and other means of communication to contact one another. Ways that couldn't be tampered with. Not Floo. That could be traced. Not owls either. They could be brought down and mail could be intercepted though she would bet that even then, there would be coded message being sent to one another to ensure no one's identity was given away.

There would be a list of names read out in the coming days when they confirmed their dead. Hermione didn't have to be a genius to know that the Order had just dealt the Dark Lord and his forces a crushing blow. Azkaban had been emptied of those the Death Eaters had wrongfully imprisoned for nefarious purpose. Hogwarts had been closed to all who might seek entry. Records had been stolen or appropriated to further protect the innocent.

And as Hermione looked around the hall and tried to mentally tally the death toll of the Death Eater brethren, she felt certain she couldn't do so. There were so many. Bodies littered the Entrance Hall of the Ministry. The Death Eaters all wore their robes, so they were distinguishable from the other fighters who had perished.

More than twenty had been killed. Merlin, it might even be closer to fifty. Robed figures were strewn about, some in positions of unerring grace, struck down in the middle of a duel, their un-uttered curses still wrought on their faces, the light gone from their eyes. Others hadn't been so fortunate and a number of them had met an ugly, sticky end. There were many among the dead who'd bled out with grievous wounds to their throats, their thighs, this chests and their arms. The Sectumsempra curse had been used to deadly effect.

Others were even worse off where things like the Entrail-Expelling Curse had been employed. Hermione tried not to look at them, their ropey intestines and innards spilled upon the floor, their bodies splayed in the final throes of the agony they had surely endured as they met death.

"Where's your mask?" Regulus asked her, jerking his own back down over his eyes and distracting Hermione from the grisly scene.

Hermione turned to him slowly. She felt almost like she was in a daze. Dimly she was aware that she clutched at her midriff with one hand, trying to stem the bleeding from the hex Harry had hit her with by accident. Regulus had clearly dodged the spell better than she had. He didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere, though she noticed idly that his black Death Eater robes were covered in dust from tackling her to the floor amid the rubble.

"I lost it," Hermione lied, not wanting to admit to someone she didn't even know that she'd taken it off to keep her friends from hexing her. Not that it had done her much good, given the amount of blood pouring from her mid-section. "What is happening? Why didn't you leave? Everyone thinks you're dead. You'll be punished for being gone so long Regulus."

"I'm not leaving you alone in there, beautiful," Regulus told her, his voice almost pitying as though he knew she was in a bit of shock. "I know you've got Sev, but I can't leave you be. I can't stay with your friends any longer. We need your mask."

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" Voldemort was screaming across the room while everyone looked baffled to suddenly find the Ministry empty but for Death Eaters and those who worked for the Dark Lord.

"My Lord… they're gone," Rabastan's voice replied, rather making a fool of himself to be pointing out the obvious in his own shock, "They just…left. We should leave."

An ominous seeming shudder rocked through the floor. Hermione had a terrible feeling that she hadn't had since sharing a classroom with Seamus Finnigan. One that usually preluded an explosion of some kind.

"We've got to go, beautiful. Before the place blows, come on," Regulus told her, using his wand to duplicate his own mask before securing it over her face carefully.

He paid no mind to the wound on his midsection and Hermione realised he hadn't seen it because the folds of her robe hid it well. She counted that to be a point in her favour. She didn't know him, but by reputation, and she certainly didn't trust him. Not even to attempt healing her before she could bleed out. She didn't flinch as he secured the mask over her face, once again obscuring her appearance and her identity. He did it almost affectionately, as though he wanted to take care of her. He stood back at his full height quickly and held out his hand to her. Hermione stared up at the man in bewilderment.

"I need you to pretend you don't know me," he muttered when he hauled her to her feet, pressing her against his chest for just a moment, "You've never heard of me, Mina. Is that clear? You don't know anyone by the name Regulus Black. But you will. I'll come to you after the Dark Lord is through punishing me. I'll explain everything. Don't let anyone see that bite Remus gave you until it heals either. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Hermione nodded. She had a gash on her cheek, grazes on her arms and several bumps and bruises forming on her body. She had an aching jaw where Fred had hit her and a gash across her stomach from the Sectumsempra that had gone awry from Harry.

"Nevermind, Snape will find it and heal it. I'm sorry about this too beautiful, but it's for your own good," he informed her, clearly not seeing anything but bumps and bruises and thinking her fine.

Hermione gasped when he hit her with a tickling jinx even as Voldemort loosed another screech of frustration like some terrible banshee before he disapparated and summoned all of them to him once more at his new location. The burn of the Dark Mark took her breath away even as she doubled over laughing with the jinx. She gagged as she laughed, the vile feeling of the black magic pulsing sickly across her magical core and making her body convulse. Hermione felt Regulus take her hand, quickly, his palm warm and dry against her own, before there was another jerk behind her navel of Apparation as they followed the Dark Lord's call. They landed in Malfoy Manor and Hermione stumbled on impact. Everyone was silent inside the long empty hall before Voldemort's throne while he paced before it.

All was silent. Everyone seemed to be in shock. Many among the ranks had been lost. Many more were injured.

Hermione herself was double over and the only sound but for the whisper of the Dark Lord's robes as he moved was the wheezing laughter coming from her. The tickling jinx made her bleeding stomach ache but she couldn't do anything for it.

"What are you laughing at?" the Dark Lord snarled at her, his furious red eyes fixed upon her when Hermione laughed so much she fell to the floor.

"Tick…. Tick… tickle…. Tickly," Hermione attempted to say, chortling gleefully as she squirmed.

She was in danger of becoming the Dark Lord's scapegoat for his fury if she didn't get herself under control, but the sensations from the jinx, combined with her genuine glee over the Order's victory kept her from being able to pull herself together enough to cancel the effect of the magic by herself. She felt dizzy, even giddy, and Hermione wondered if it was the jinx, her glee, or the blood loss that was to blame.

"Finite incantatum," Snape's voice hissed as he appeared beside her, ceasing the spell she'd been operating under and subtly protecting her from the Dark Lord's wrath.

Hermione's laughter ceased abruptly, the glee twisting into something else entirely as she realised that for all that the Order had just done something amazing, she was numbered among the Death Eaters. She didn't imagine it boded well for any of them to be in the Dark Lord's presence when he learned the full extent of the Order's victory today. More importantly, she seemed to recall Draco saying that revels were sometimes held to lift their spirits.

The very idea turned her stomach and taunted her psyche. With a groan as she tried to catch her breath, Hermione remained on the floor where she had fallen, her feet bent up underneath her, her legs folded and her hands pressed to the cool marble floor of Malfoy Manor. She might be delighted that the Order had so effectively ripped apart everything the Dark Lord and his followers had worked for, but she was also terrified of what she might have to endure as a result.

"Tickling Jinx, my Lord," Snape offered on her behalf while Hermione tried to catch her breath, each inhalation feeling strained and threatening to gag her again as the pressure of her wounds and her rapidly increasing hysteria threatened to overwhelm her.

Hermione was realising painfully that though she had, indeed been laughing from the jinx, she was also suddenly hysterically amused and simultaneously terrified by all that had occurred. The full extent of Harry and Ron's retribution had yet to be realised, but a number of Death Eaters had been killed. The Ministry was in chaos. It might even have been bombed. Snape had said prisoners had been rescued from Azkaban. Hogwarts had been sealed against Death Eaters and perhaps against all students as well. The school had been effectively closed. Hermione didn't understand why they would do that, other than to allow everyone to remain in hiding if they chose. The students could not be harmed. They could not be used or trained by Voldemort's forces. They could not be reached.

"Someone explain to me what just occurred," Voldemort demanded, very slowly. He turned his attention from Hermione and his furious red eyes danced over each of his followers. Hermione could tell as she watched him that he was counting the number of holes in the ranks as everyone assembled themselves according to rank and their level of importance to the Dark Lord.

"They attacked. They…" Voldemort trailed off, seeming to be at an utter loss for words. His brow was furrowed in confusion as though he couldn't believe what had just occurred. As though he perhaps wondered if this was some wretched dream he was having.

"They acted like us, my Lord," Rabastan injected when the wizard seemed at a true loss for words in his fury, "They were as ruthless and as vicious as we are."

"Azkaban has been breached. The mudbloods we'd incarcerated have been freed. The prison has been levelled," Voldemort snarled in response, his eyes flashing, "Hogwarts has been sealed too. My soldiers have been killed. Murdered."

Hermione wondered how he could know all that without having attended any of the sites when he'd seemed to be at the Ministry and duelling with them all. Had he gone to the other locations first? Been summoned to those places before the Battle at the Ministry had been instigated? Hermione supposed it was possible.

Ron and Harry, along with the rest of the Order, had levelled triple-striking blow to the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters, spreading his number thinner. Hermione recalled that Regulus had mentioned he was summoning reinforcements when Remus had bitten her. Suggesting that much of the brethren had been scattered between the three places they had been engaged simultaneously. It was a clever tactic, actually. It split the Dark Lord's forces, and the Order had been inundated with numbers. Hermione didn't doubt it had taken an enormous amount of planning, but it seemed like everyone not a Death Eater or of a dark Pureblood family who lived in wizarding Britain had been involved in today's fight.

They had drawn the line in the sand. They'd all reached a point where they said enough was enough. They had rallied and they had struck hard, fast and in such a way that Hermione could only guess at the casualties among the Death Eaters. They had divided and they had conquered. The brethren looked to be in ruins.

Unfortunately, Hermione mused as she watched the Dark Lord seethe and pace, Hermione knew that the ranks of evil would recover and they would retaliate hard. Whereas the Order and their helpers today would not have such numbers again. Hermione didn't doubt that they'd all been talked into today's fight as a last, lethal blow. They didn't know that Voldemort was furious, but far from defeated. They didn't know his soul was split in seven pieces. They thought they'd been there to avenge their loved ones.

They didn't realise that without Hermione and without Snape being exactly where they were, this reign of terror was still just beginning. Voldemort was far from finished. Hermione could see it in his eyes. He was momentarily shocked and even perhaps begrudgingly impressed by the actions the Order had taken and the deeds they had resorted to. But death and destruction were a Dark wizard's bread and butter.

People like Harry and Ron, who were so inherently good, could never be as ruthless or as dangerous as Dark wizards like Voldemort. They could never compare to the mercilessness of Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange. They couldn't maintain the fury and the hate like the Malfoys, the Parinkson and the Rowles could. They couldn't practice such reckless hate the way the Death Eaters did.

It wasn't a part of their make-up for an Order member to be so ruthless. At least, it wasn't outside of Hermione herself. Even Snape, Order member though he was, could not be considered one of the good guys. He'd been a Death Eater first. He'd been seduced by the Dart Arts. He'd learned the wretched, powerful pleasure that came from delving into dark magic.

People like Harry and Ron; like the Weasely's and the other member so fthe Order; they couldn't maintain the type of intensity they had shown today. Hermione didn't doubt that right now they were all out there in their safe-houses. They were taking care of one another. They were seeing to the injured and they were mourning their dead. They would help one another. They would feel remorse over the lives they had taken and the crimes they had committed today.

Yet the Death Eaters… Hermione shook her head to herself slowly.

They were cut from a very different cloth. Many among their number were bleeding, injured terribly and even on death's doorstep. She could see Lucius Malfoy leaning heavily to one side. Blood continued to gush from his wounds where he'd been hit with many nasty spells. There was a large puddle of it forming around his feet, staining the marble floor crimson. But despite the agony Hermione knew he must be in, he stood as tall as he was able. His shoulders were back. His chin was raised. His face might be paler than a ghost, but he looked like he would take whatever orders or punishment his Dark Lord might throw at him.

And he wasn't alone. The entire brethren looked on in just the same manner. Their eyes were fixed on the Dark Lord. They waited, almost in silence, for their Lord's wrath and his fury. Many were so close to death that Hermione knew they could taste it; she could almost see Death's cold fingers reaching for them greedily. And yet they stood, ready to do their Dark Lord's bidding. Ready to be given orders to rain chaos, pain and death down upon the Order for what they had done.

People like Harry could never match that. The seduction of the Dark arts was too powerful. The moral compasses of these people was spinning crookedly in whichever direction best suited their own agendas. They no longer knew the difference between right and wrong. They were beyond saving.

"Potter and the Order are not so willing to remain squeaky clean after all, my Lord," Rodolphus inferred when Voldemort remained silent, pacing like a caged tiger across the dais before his raised throne.

"Severus?" Voldemort asked, turning his gaze to Snape as though Snape might have answers.

"I was aware that some among them were willing to delve into the darker arts to put a stop to your reign, my Lord," Snape offered carefully, clearly sensing the Dark Lord's barely bridled rage, "Potter himself has used my signature spell upon me and upon Draco in the past. The others too were taught to at least stun rather than simply to disarm us. To kill if necessary. It would seem they are rather put out over the death of their precious mudblood, my Lord."

"They mentioned no plans of this before you departed their cause?" Voldemort asked.

"None, my Lord. Dumbledore's plan was always to raise Potter so long as to battle you, in line with the prophecy. There was no mention of destroying Azkaban, sealing the school or attacking the Ministry. That they have done so suggests they are wrathful over Granger's loss. They have grown reckless in their anger. It seems, perhaps that it might be prudent that we take stock of who we lost in the battle. Their sudden departure suggests they were after something in particular at the Ministry and they seem to have found it, or surely they would not have withdrawn."

The hiss of fury Voldemort emitted made all of his Death Eater recoil slightly, except for Snape himself.

"Who? Who did we lose?" Voldemort asked, his voice a vile hiss in the dimly lit room. Outside a wild storm raged, thunder and lightning cracking across the sky and booming with such ferocity that the windows rattled and the floor seemed to shake.

"Astrid," someone muttered, "Goyle senior. Macnair. Umbridge. Jenkins. Mullens. Pucey senior. Stebbins. McNally. Ignatius Carrow."

"We seemed to have gained a member too, my Lord," Rodolphus spoke up, levelling a damning glare at Regulus where he stood silent and undaunted before the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters.

They all turned to him slowly, staring at him and seeming to realise he did not belong among them, despite the mask and the robes he wore.

"Regained, Lestrange. You have regained a member today," Regulus spoke from behind his mask, stepping forward with his wand in his hand. He reached up carefully and removed the mask from his face, revealing his identity to the brethren though Hermione noticed his eyes were fixed upon the Dark Lord.

Hermione noted that only the faintest flicker of recognition followed quickly by fury and suspicion registered in the Dark Lord's cold eyes.

"YOU!" Bellatrix shrieked at the sight of her cousin.

"Regulus?"

"Black?"

"I thought you were dead?!"

All around the hall Death Eaters exclaimed in surprise to see him.

"You did not come any other time I summoned the faithful among my brethren, Regulus. Not once in fifteen years," Voldemort hissed, his eyes narrowed carefully upon the young man, "We believed you to be dead."

"I know, my Lord, I'm sorry," Regulus admitted, though he didn't look ashamed of himself or overly repentant, if Hermione were being honest, "I was unable to return to you before now."

"Where have you been, Regulus Black?"

"Masquerading," Regulus answered, "I have been loyal in my service of you, my Lord. I have been more faithful to the cause than all others."

Voldemort narrowed his red eyes while Nagini slithered around Regulus's feet threatening, her forked tongue tasting the air and her scale sliding against his dragon-hide boots.

"You see, my Lord, while everyone else has been here at your side, as I so longed to be, I had a more important mission to attend," Regulus told him

Many among the order hissed at the idea that anything could be more important than heeding the Dark Lord's summons. Regulus ignored them all, his eyes still trained on the Dark Lord even as Nagini began winding herself around his left ankle as though she might constrict him or perhaps as though she meant to strike.

"I have been deep within the very heart of the Order of the Phoenix. I have learned more of their plans than even your most dedicated spy amongst them," Regulus revealed and Hermione's blood ran cold at his words.

He was a traitor then? He had been into their heart and learned all they knew before crawling back to his Lord.

Regulus nodded his head carefully at Snape.

"Explain," Snape growled on the Dark Lord's behalf, looking furious at the implication that anyone might be a better spy than him. Hermione could tell he faked the anger and indignation, but only because she knew that Regulus knew who she really was and because Remus had known him and trusted him.

Did he mean to betray her? Was she to be exposed so quickly as a spy in their midst?

"You see my Lord, I have been masquerading, all this time, as the familiar of one among the Order."

Hermione felt her heart run cold as suddenly the vaguely familiar cast to the man's features came flooding back to her. She'd mistaken him for Sirius, it was true, but she had initially recognised him for someone else. A man she'd seen countless times since her third year. She'd spotted him drinking and smoking in a pub in Hogsmeade. She'd seen him loitering across the street, leaning against the lamp post outside her house. She'd once spotted him on the platform at the train station.

"Allow me to demonstrate, my Lord. I imagine that at least one or two among our number will recongise me in a moment," Regulus smirked, looking entirely too much like the cat who got the canary.

With a shimmer of magic, Regulus disappeared, transforming into something else. Something smaller. Something hairier. Something with matted orange fur and a squashed in face. Something with a thick bottle-brush tail that twitched in annoyance.

"Granger's cat!" Draco exclaimed from across the room.

Crookshanks.

Regulus Black was, in fact, Crookshanks.


	20. Chapter 20: Communication

**A/N: Oh my gosh, you guys have utterly spoiled me with reviews after the last chapter. My cheeks were sore for days after smiling so hard as I watched you all flip out about Regulus/Crookshanks. I'm so pleased you liked my twist (dubbed EMFs in my FB groups). It's been amazing watching you all react to the new twist and seeing your projections for what you want to see happen, what you fear, and what you think will come in the future. I'm storing the surprises up and you're going to flip at this chapter too, I think. Teehee. This one is a 15k monster and gets a bit heavy, so read it when you're unlikely to be interrupted, m'kay? It's worksafe, but long and content/plot heavy. Shoutout to** RedSavvy **for hitting review 1100.**

 **You guys have no idea how thrilled I am about the reaction to this fic.** **I was sick last week and your love pulled me through my flu. That, and I binge-read all of** _ShayaLonnie's_ **fabulous fic "** _The Debt of Time_ **". If you haven't read it, I absolutely insist you do whilst waiting for the next update to this. It's LONG, it's COMPLETE and it's the best time-travel fic I've ever read. Will change your life. You MUST read it. I insist.**

 **Much love!**

 **xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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 **Chapter 20: Communication**

* * *

 _... "I know you've murdered,_

 _and I know you've lied._

 _I have watched you suffer for all of your life"..._

- **What Love Really Means (JJ Heller)**

* * *

Hermione snapped her mouth closed when Snape stabbed her hand without something sharp, hauling her jaw back to where it ought to be, rather than continuing to allow it to dangle somewhere near her navel in her utter shock. He'd helped her back to her feet and Hermione had been gaping in shock and no small amount of horror at the sight of her beloved pet, Crookshanks, who was actually Regulus Black. Her familiar was an animgaus. Her pet cat was secretly a grown wizard. She'd never been more shocked.

She'd also never felt so violated in all her life and as a girl who had recently become a Death Eater, shagged her professor, shagged her schoolyard rival, and shagged a man who completely unnerved her, that was saying a lot. Not to mention that she'd been born with messed up teeth and two parents who were dentists – both of whom had an unfortunate habit of checking her teeth at any given moment. She'd lived with the violation of having her mouth pried open and her teeth prodded at during dental conventions her parents dragged her to most of her early childhood, but even that had never been as embarrassing and utterly violating as the idea that her adored half-Kneazle was in fact a grown man in animal form. Suddenly she had a very real grasp of the horror Ron had faced when he had learned that Scabbers was actually Peter Pettigrew in disguise. The idea of her beloved pet actually being a human wizard, a Dark wizard no less, was utterly horrifying.

Hermione was mortified!

She'd showered in front of him. She'd sung in front of him. Passed wind. Good Lord, she'd even used the toilet in front of him. In fact, she seemed to recall a number of times she had cuddled the cat upon her lap whilst at the toilet. Sweet Merlin, what had she done? The poor wizard had been forced to endure the number of affectionate kisses she'd smothered all over his head, dealt with her holding him in her arms at all hours whenever it suited her, been forced to tolerate it when she nibbled the tips of his ears whilst murmur baby-talk in a ridiculous voice.

Cursed Circe, she'd essentially tortured the man, believing all the while that he was merely a rather intelligent feline.

How could this be?

Her cat was Regulus Black.

Regulus Black was alive. And he was Crookshanks. Good God, she might faint.

Hermione knew she needed to get a handle on herself and fast or she was going to blow her cover.

"Papa," Hermione spoke up in the silence that followed the initial exclamations over Regulus's presence among them, and as an unregistered animagus, "Not that this alarming revelation about cats belonging to dead mudbloods isn't fascinating, but erm… I'm bleeding out… I wouldn't mention it, only I've been light-headed for several minutes now…"

Hermione pulled off her cloak to reveal the gash in her dress and the amount of blood pouring from the bloodied wound across his stomach and her ribs.

"Mina!" Snape narrowed his eyes, paling slightly as he caught sight of the blood soaking her dress, "My Lord, undoubtedly Regulus needs to be questioned, but we do have a number of wounded among us who need immediate attention, lest they join those numbered among the dead today."

"Attend them," Voldemort growled, his eyes still fixed on Regulus where he stood in cat form, his tail twitching tauntingly. "Rabastan, Rodolphus, are either of you injured?"

"No, my Lord," the Lestrange brothers replied in unison.

"Seize him. I want him questioned. Anyone not among the wounded is to divide into groups. Return to the Ministry and retrieve our fallen soldiers. I want to know who else we are missing and what the Order intended with their attack," Voldemort hissed.

"My Lord, I can tell you their intentions," Regulus replied, transforming back into a wizard and waving off Rabastan and Rodolphus, "They sought out Umbridge, in particular, because of something she carried."

"Oh?" Voldemort asked.

"Yes, my Lord," Regulus practically purred and Hermione would swear she could hear the smug satisfaction in his tone, "You see, it so happens that Dolores Umbridge had in her possession the locket of Salazar Slytherin."

"A fake, no doubt," Voldemort replied, though his eyes narrowed, "What would Potter want with…"

"The locket was not a fake, my Lord," Regulus interrupted, "Potter sought to retrieve it after it was misplaced the night of Albus Dumbledore's death. You see my Lord, Potter know it's… shall we say, 'true value' to the Heir of Slytherin."

"What do you know?" Voldemort hissed suddenly, striking forwards and clutching Regulus by the throat tightly. Everyone in the hall went still as their Lord's foul temper began to manifest, twisting into something more dangerous, more violent, more likely to see them all killed.

"I know all that Potter knows, my Lord," Regulus replied evenly, "I know that the night Dumbledore died, he and Potter had taken a little excursion away from Hogwarts and to a cave by the sea. I know that Dumbledore did not seek to fight that night when Severus murdered him. You see my Lord, he'd ingested a terrible potion and was already on Death's doorstep. Indeed, he was already dying. You know where they went, my Lord. You know what they retrieved that night. The locket was misplaced when destroying it proved more difficult than anticipated. It fell into the hands of Mundungus Fletcher, who attempted to pawn it. He was caught by Dolores Umbridge and his wares confiscated. She'd been wearing it around her neck since then. Until today."

"No," Voldemort denied, his hand tightening on Regulus's throat.

"Yes, my Lord," Regulus purred, "He knows. Potter knows. He needed to retrieve it because he now knows how to destroy the locket of Salazar Slytherin."

The roar of fury Voldemort emitted was accompanied by a blast of magic so powerful it knocked everyone off their feet and filled the room with ice. Hermione wasn't the only one to groan aloud as the magic blasted through her, bringing her to her knees and leaving a chill so deep inside her should she wasn't sure she would ever be warm again. Voldemort shrieked and roared in his rage, releasing Regulus and letting him fall to the floor with the rest of them.

Without warning Voldemort disapparated and Hermione didn't doubt that he had gone to begin seeking out each of his horcruxes, to ascertain whether or not Regulus spoke the truth. To discover how many of them were still safe. She got the feeling things were only get worse when he returned to discover how many of them had already been destroyed.

"You would do well, Black," Snape drawled as he returned to his feet and lifted Hermione to her own, "To keep your mouth shut on anything else you might need to share with us until after the Dark Lord returns."

"I wouldn't dream of doing anything else," Regulus replied, "Now, I understand there are some wounded to attend? Perhaps it would be prudent for those among the wounded to retire to your place of residence to be treated from your stores? I don't imagine St. Mungo's will take any of us, no matter the mess at the Ministry today."

"Severus?" Lucius Malfoy asked, sagging now that he no longer needed to stand tall before the Dark Lord. Draco was supporting most of his father's weight and Hermione could see that there were deep gashes across Lucius upper thigh, his chest and his stomach. He was losing blood at an even faster rate than Hermione was herself and already she could feel and see the blood running down her legs and pooling in her boots, in addition to seeping the length of her dress and dripping from the hem to smear upon the marble floor of Malfoy Manor.

"Draco, you know the spell to heal. Apparate him to my place. Rabastan, round up the other wounded, Draco will receive you at the door of Spinner's End when you arrive with them in tow," Snape barked out order, "The rest of you who aren't injured, you have your orders from the Dark Lord. I suggest you follow them or you will face his wrath. As for you, Black, I will require you healing knowledge to fix this sorry lot."

Without saying another word, he wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulders, tugging her against his chest before using his free hand to seize hold of Regulus's forearm and disapparting them all with a crack.

"Mina?" Snape asked when they landed inside his house, clearly concerned for her health. She imagined she must be terribly pale with the amount of blood she'd already lost. Coupled with the shock of having been confronted with the idea that her familiar was indeed a living, breathing wizard – a wizard previously believed to have been dead – Hermione supposed she must look a right state and she didn't have the time to indulge her mind's urge to shut down both with the horror of the battle, her wounds, her fear or her mounting concern over the wilds turns this rollercoaster was taking.

"Oh Gods, what have you done?" Hermione muttered, looking between Snape and Regulus when both wizards looked momentarily calmed to be in the presence of the other and of her, despite her injuries and the revelation Regulus had made. It was clear to her in a heartbeat that Snape had already known about Regulus, though for how long remained to be seen.

"How is she able to walk when she's bleeding like that Snape? She's lost more than two pints already. Come on, beautiful, I need you to hold still. Lie down so Sev can heal you," Regulus said, trying to help her onto workbench in Snape's brewing lab.

"You… you're…." Hermione stared at him wide eyed in utter horror, unable to un-see the sight of him and her beloved cat super imposed over one another.

"I'm your Crookshanks," he muttered to her, clearly more concerned with her physical injuries than her current mental instability with this new knowledge. "Don't freak out on me, beautiful. Come on. I'll explain later when we have time to be alone. I promise I will, just as soon as you're not going to bleed out and die on me."

"Snape?" Hermione murmured, reaching towards him mindlessly, trying to get her thoughts back in order. Trying to re-erect her mental shields and finding herself once again relying on the Dark wizard to assist her.

"What have you taken that you are in no pain, Mina?" Snape asked her, already lowering her onto the work bench in his lab with ease and beginning to pour potions into her. Ever level-headed in the face of even the most unnerving shocks and the most dire of circumstances. Hermione would need to learn how to emulate him. She needed to be able to keep her head no matter what this wretched life of darkness threw at her. She needed to work harder to be more like him.

"A Pain-Numbing potion just before following the summons," Hermione admitted, "Draco gave it to me. That and some firewhiskey. I can't feel any of the wounds on my body."

"Did Lupin bite you?" Snape asked her urgently.

"Yes," Hermione replied, reaching for the back of her neck, "He… why?"

"Later," Snape muttered, "Black, bring me one of the potions there. The phial of green potion."

Regulus did as he was told.

"Severus?" Draco's voice called out suddenly from somewhere else in the house and Hermione jumped at the sound as she drank the potion Snape handed to her.

"In my lab, Draco," Snape called in reply, showing no sign of being startled. Hermione imagined he'd have felt it when the wards rippled over both Malfoy wizards. "Bring Lucius in here."

Hermione watched in a daze as Lucius was led – carried – into the room, barely able to walk. His pale flesh was even paler than usual with the blood loss and he looked like he might faint at any moment. Hermione would have pitied him had he not been such a wretched man and a Death Eater to boot.

"The blood replenishment potions, Draco," Snape commanded, pointing to a shelf where the potions he spoke of were stored, "And the healing spells for Sectumsempra. You know them."

Draco nodded, pouring potions into his father before he began singing the incantation to heal the wounds upon his father's flesh. Lucius was laid down on the other work bench in Snape's lab while Snape personally saw to healing Hermione.

"No, don't," Hermione said, gripping his hand he reached for the hem of her dress, intent on lifting it to check her over for more wounds and to heal the gash she was beginning to feel on her hip as the potions went to work inside her system.

"Why not?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes on her.

"I'm naked underneath," Hermione admitted, blushing.

She didn't honestly care right then if anyone saw her naked. She was, after all, shagging two of the four men currently in the room and she'd been seen naked hundreds of times by the third. But she had a role to play as Snape's daughter and she didn't imagine a daughter would let her father see her naked without at least warning him of the risk.

"Do I even want to know why that is?" he asked drily, narrowing his eyes further in annoyance.

"It was Draco's fault," Hermione offered immediately, shoot a smirk across the room towards the werewolf.

"Was not," Draco retorted good-naturedly from the far side of the room where he had paused in his healing to give his father more potions.

"You shredded my knickers and you don't think it's your fault I'm naked underneath my dress as a result?" Hermione asked, smirking at him.

"Bring some of your things to my place and leave them there and we won't have to worry about what I destroy because you'll have fresh clothes to put on after I ravish you, witch," he retorted smirking in return.

"Enough," Snape snapped, "I hardly think as the person who cleaned you up after you were branded, that I'm going to discover any part of your naked form offensive, Mina."

With that said he proceeded to vanish her dress entirely, leaving her utterly bare upon the table. To his credit, Snape paid no more heed to her nakedness than he would to his own. In fact he was entirely clinical, as she knew he would be. Regulus trailed his eyes over her carefully, but she noticed when she looked at him that he too seemed more clinical than lecherous. His eyes sought out the wounds upon her skin rather than a chance to perve on her; his brow furrowing with what looked like worry as he eyed each wound he spotted with concern as though the idea of her being hurt bothered him greatly.

"How bad is it?" Draco asked from across the room, still working to heal his father but clearly expressing some concern for the idea that Mina might also be flirting with Death, though she could currently feel much of the pain her body was undoubtedly in.

"She'll live," Snape replied, "But you will have a nasty scar from this, Mina."

He nodded to her stomach, hip and ribs where the gash was rapidly sealing as he healed it. Hermione doubted his words, given the effect of the potion she had ingested that was designed to remove blemishes. It would likely smooth away, as the scar she'd originally borne from the Battle at the Department of Mysteries and Dolohov's dark curse had been smoothed away, leaving only the faintest of blemished behind.

"The rest is merely bumps and bruises," Snape went on, oblivious to or purposely ignoring her expression, "This. On your face. What happened here?"

"One of the Order punched me after shooting a Bombarda at me when I snuck up on him," Hermione told him, omitting the name of the Order member since she wasn't supposed to know who Fred Weasley was.

Snape curled his lip as though the idea annoyed him, his dark eyes flashing dangerously.

"Draco, run up and let them inside," Snape said when his doorbell chimed, "Leave Lucius to me. Regulus, put some bruise salve on these for Mina."

Everyone seemed to recognise that Snape was not to be argued with lest they be murdered by Snape purposely. Hermione chose to simply watch him make sense out of the chaos. She suspected from the way he moved and the tightness of his jaw that he was angry and she suspected it was entirely to do with her. From what she'd gathered he'd been expecting that Regulus would appear among them, revealing his identity as Crookshanks all along and infiltrating back into the ranks once more.

No, he wasn't furious about that and Hermione didn't think he was angry about the idea of the Dark Lord learning that his Horcruxes had been threatened. In fact she suspected that he would have someone tailing the Dark Lord. If he was checking on the location of all of them, he would inadvertently reveal where they all were and what they might be to someone who was paying enough attention. They were forcing him to show his hand to make sure they hadn't overlooked any or miscalculated how many he had.

Snape also didn't seem to care about what the Order had done and all they had destroyed. He'd clearly been in on it, somehow, though no one else but her and perhaps Regulus knew that. They had foiled his plans of being Headmaster and of having Hermione pretend to be a student there to keep her out of danger, but there was little for it now. There must be some new plan she wasn't aware of yet.

Hermione didn't think he was mad about any of those things. In fact, if she had to guess, she suspected he was mad that she'd gotten hurt. Was he worried for her well-being? Concerned that she'd almost been killed in the battle? She supposed that made sense. She was his charge and she was vital to the effort to retrieve the Cup of Hufflepuff from the Lestrange vault, destroy it and see the end of Voldemort's reign. She couldn't do that if she was dead.

"Don't," Hermione warned Regulus when he reached to touched the gash upon her cheek, flinching back from the idea of having him touch her at all. Uncomfortable in the presence of the man who'd fooled her into believing he were her adored cat for four years.

"You need to be healed," Regulus argued with her, gripping her chin tightly and smearing cool salve over the wound. He showed no concern whatsoever over her ideas about boundaries, personal space or what her opinion on the matter might be. She almost snorted at the fact that it was a trait he'd often expressed as Crookshanks. Hermione felt it begin to tingle as it healed.

"Mina?" Rabastan's voice asked when he entered the room led by Draco and followed by a number of other wounded Death Eaters.

Both wizards strode into the room, their dark Death Eaters robes billowing behind them slightly and making them look even more menacing than they ordinarily appeared. If Hermione hadn't currently been in the process of trying to fight Regulus off her face when he continued smearing healing over her scrapes, cuts and bruises, she was sure she'd have been unnerved and perhaps even a little fearful of the sight they made. Something she realised with a jolt that she would need to work on. At some stage the pair of gits were likely to both become her husbands and as such it did not do for her to be alarmed by the sight of them in any capacity.

"Rabastan," Hermione drawled in return, realising he was shocked to find her naked and trying to project an air of disaffectedness that would make Snape proud.

Several of the brethren seemed shocked too, but unlike everyone else, they didn't act clinical about it. Despite their own wounds, many of them gazed upon her lithe and naked form with lust in their eyes. Her Bad Wolf sat up and yipped in delight at the attention, ever the wanton whore, and Hermione rolled her eyes to herself. Recalling Snape's cautioning about not showing weakness in front of them over her nakedness, Hermione sat there brazenly, her legs swinging from the edge of the table as she allowed Regulus to heal the scrapes on her hands, smearing more of the salve over them.

"Are you badly wounded?" Rabastan asked her, coming over to her side and examining her with his eyes. She could see the sparkle of lust in those green depths as he looked over her naked form, but he kept it at bay as he ascertained her health and wellbeing.

"I'm fine, Bass," Hermione sighed, leaning into his touch when he cupped her uninjured cheek as though she were precious to him. She was surprised by the show of affection, wondering if he was intending to make himself a target on her behalf or if he sought to display some kind of ownership over her and thus warn away the eyes and the lecherous thoughts the other might be entertaining.

Was he simply toying with her mind? Convincing her he was enamoured with her? Playing her to better control her? Did he feign his sincerity as he stared into her eyes and seemed so sensitive to her needs? Was it all an intricate game they were playing, each trying to outwit, out manoeuvre and outlast the other in a never-ending dance of power and emotion?

Draco came up on her other side, jostling Regulus to the middle and essentially blocking her body from the view of the others. His touch when he smoothed his hand over her bare thigh gently seemed much more sincere than the way Rabastan cupped her cheek. She could almost feel his concern in his touch, especially when his hand came away sticky with the blood that had run down the length of her front from the wound on her stomach and her chest.

"That's a nasty gash," Draco told her, eyeing the scar already forming across her ribs.

"Now we'll match," Hermione smiled at him, nodding indicatively at his own chest beneath his robes where he bore an almost identical scar, ironically enough given to them by the same wizard casting the same wretched curse.

"Almost," Draco nodded, leaning into her and pecking her temple carefully. Hermione didn't know what to make of the way the innocent and affectionate gesture made something stir inside her soul, giving a little flutter before warming her as though she 'd just stepped into a beam of sunshine.

"Don't touch it, Black," Hermione warned when Regulus found another scrape she hadn't felt on her knee and began picking at it. It was bloodied and there appeared to be gravel inside it, no doubt from her fall when he'd tackled her.

"There's gravel in it, girl," he retorted, smirking at her as though her attitude amused him. Narrowing her eyes on him, Hermione jerked her leg out of his grip when he began picking the gravel out with alarming long and sharp nails. She realised with a jolt that he'd partially transformed them into the cat-claws of his animagus form and was using them like tweezers.

"Stop it," Hermione hissed at him.

It didn't hurt to have him pick at it. The potion in her system kept her from feeling more than a vague pulling and tugging sensation as he plucked little hunks of rock from her skin and collected them in his free hand, clearly knowing better than to drop them on the floor of Snape's lab.

"Don't pretend it hurts," he snapped in return, "We both know you can't feel it."

"Can't feel it?" Rabastan asked, looking slightly worried at the words. Hermione wondered if this was all an act to make the others think he'd already laid claim to her and already cared about her. Or did he perform for her sake? Was he trying to make her think he cared about her? Trying to get her to rely upon him?

Was he playing her the way she played him? Was she getting paranoid?

"The pain potion you two gave me," Hermione reminded him, glancing at him and then at Draco, "It's kept me from feeling all of these delightful new wounds. Fortunately I was able to notice the wetness of the blood when I was clutching my midsection whilst suffering that Tickling Jinx, else I might've bled out before realising I'd been hit by a Sectumsempra gone awry."

"I'd forgotten we gave it to you," Rabastan admitted and a lascivious grinned slipped across his face at the memory of what they'd been doing before they'd been summoned by the Dark Lord and the reason they'd given her to potion in the first place.

"Lucky you," Hermione replied, narrowing her eyes on him slightly when he carded his fingers into her loose long hair, brushing it back slightly before his thumb stroked over the bite-make Draco had left on her shoulder. He bore a small love-bite on the side of his own neck, peeking out above the hood of his robe. Hermione knew that underneath it he bore a scar identical to her own, given to him by Draco last night as well. The idea of having left marks on her and having used her body so well seemed to titillate him and Hermione wouldn't put it past the twisted wizard to already be fantasising of using her that way again.

She wasn't at all looking forward to having the potion wear off either, as she imagined she was going to be very sore when that happened. Especially her bottom. Sitting would most likely prove painful. Indeed, when the pain of being ravished by the pair of wizards hit her, it would undoubtedly combine with all the aches and pains from today's battle and her wounds. Hermione wasn't at all looking forward to that either and she hoped that when that came, she would be somewhere that she wouldn't make a fool of herself as she expected the pain might be enough to make her cry.

Draco interlaced his fingers with hers and pecked her on the temple again but he was grinning as well, clearly also recalling the depraved acts they'd been engaging that had caused her to require the potion in the first place. Hermione rolled her eyes in mild annoyance with the pair of them.

"When you three are finished," Snape drawled, appearing behind them and looking more like the looming potions master than ever, "Perhaps you might consider acting like gentlemen and offering _my daughter_ your cloak?"

Hermione was amused as she watched Draco, Regulus and Rabastan all blanch at the menacing and misleadingly silky tone in Snape's voice. They clearly recognised his predatory demeanour and didn't want to be on the receiving end of the black mood he was clearly building to a wretched storm just waiting to pour down upon someone.

"Right. Gentlemen. Shit," Draco muttered, unfastening his cloak and quickly ensconcing Hermione within its folds. Hermione noticed idly that the fabric smelled of him underneath a fine layer of dust, blood and death.

"Rabastan, I need your assistance," Snape went on, though he seemed to calmer and no less menacing to see her covered once more, "You too Draco. Regulus, when you are finished there, your healing expertise is also required."

"What do you need me to do, Papa?" Hermione asked, swatting Regulus's hand away from her knee and snatching the pot of wound salve from his hands.

Snape's eyes snapped over to her face and his eyes narrowed on her carefully. Hermione got the feeling he was trying to decide what to do with her, reading her carefully as he assessed her before providing instructions.

"Go upstairs and get dressed," he commanded of her quietly, "When you return you will see to those."

He nodded his head towards the potions in the corner of the room that were under stasis but undoubtedly needed attention. Hermione smirked, his words suggested he didn't like the idea of her being seen naked by his brethren and would prefer her properly garbed to better protect from their lecherous gazes and possible advances. But he also proved that he trusted her with his potions and his brewing as he didn't seem to trust anyone else. A delicate balance between reminding everyone she was his daughter, but also that she was more than capable as a witch.

"Si, Papa," Hermione smiled widely at him as she hopped off the table, "Grazi for healing me."

He tensed when she wrapped her arms around him in a warm embrace and Hermione took a moment as she hugged him for their audience, to breathe in his peppermint and smoke scent, taking comfort in his strength against her. She used the moment to make it look like they had functional but tentative father-daughter relationship for the other Death Eaters looking on, recalling that they would all be reporting back to Voldemort everything that she did, including how she interacted with the others.

When she released him, Hermione smiled up at Snape once more before stalking out of the room with as much confidence as she could muster. She had to fight the urge not to wriggle with glee when she really stopped to think about the day's events and how the Order had dealt a dizzying blow to the Death Eaters. Many of them were dead. Even more of them were injured. Azkaban had been destroyed and could no longer be used to house muggleborns for breeding them to further his army. The Dark Lord knew his immortality was threatened and would have to further disfigure himself if he wanted to create more horcruxes.

She climbed the stairs, being sure to control her gait as she did so, keeping her laughter and her happiness inside herself. As soon as she was locked inside her room she couldn't hold it back anymore and as she spun in circle the laughter bubbled up within her. Hermione laughed long and loud, her Good wolf and Bad both celebrating within her at the turn the day had taken and the retribution the Order had demanded on her behalf though she wasn't dead.

That she had killed a girl that day meant nothing to her. That she had saved her friend's lives by doing so was delightful. That she'd seen them again, safe and dealing out dizzying blows elated her.

 _"_ _Hermione?"_

Hermione jolted to a stop amid her dizzy spinning as she danced in a circle and laughed with glee. Was she going mad? She would swear she'd just heard a voice inside her mind.

 _"_ _Hermione? Don't panic. It's Remus. Telepathic communication via the bite. I told you I would explain. Are you alone? You need to use your magic and focus on the bite I gave you to communicate in reply."_

Hermione dropped down to sit on the edge of her bed, utterly shocked by this turn of events. Surely she was going mad? She must be. Werewolves weren't telepathic. They couldn't communicate with each other this way. And even if they could, she wasn't a werewolf. She'd have read about it or heard about it before now if this were at all possible. Surely if it were possible Remus wouldn't have waited until she became a Death Eater to use it to keep track of the three of them when they'd been separated?

Using her magic as he'd said, Hermione directed her power towards the bite on the back of her neck, reaching up to touch it as she did so.

 _"_ _Remus? How?"_

She waited for a reply.

 _"_ _It worked! I was worried it wouldn't. Blimey. Now, are you hurt? Other than me biting you? Sorry about that. We needed to establish this connection so we could keep you up to date without giving anything away. It works because I'm a werewolf. Only Alphas can do it, and until Ron was infected I wasn't able to do this. Greyback can do it too. He most likely uses it on the Malfoy boy. And I'm prattling. I'm going to stop. Are you hurt, Hermione?"_

Hermione sniggered to herself, thinking that if she had actually gone mad, at least it was in an amusing and fun way.

 _"_ _I was. Harry accidentally caught me with the tail end of a Sectumsempra before Regulus apparated me out of there. You knew Regulus was Crookshanks all this time? Are you hurt? Did the Order lose anyone?"_

She could almost feel Remus's relief when she began to bombard him with questions.

 _"_ _The immediate Order is ok. A little banged up and a bit bruised, but we didn't lose anyone that you'd know. Fred and George made these nifty new vests infused with Giant's blood that repel most curses. Lucky too, or a few of us would be worse for wear. Harry got hit with a nasty curse that got through the vest and nearly took his arm off, but Molly and Poppy are onto it and he'll be fine with time._

 _Ron's fine, of course. Werewolf blood keeps him from suffering the effects of most spells. They just bounce right off the same way they do for me. Now, about Regulus. Yes, I knew he was Crookshanks, though not until your fifth year. Sirius didn't tell me before then. He knew all along. The bastard taught Regulus animagi when he, James and Peter were learning while we were all at Hogwarts and he never mentioned it. He knew all along that his brother was alive and safe with you._

 _I know it's a bit of a shock, and you're probably mortified, but you need to know you can trust Regulus. He's firmly on our side of things. He actually helped us a lot these past few days. We got into Hogwarts before Minerva sealed it against all entrants and Harry found the Diadem Horcrux. Regulus can do Fiendfyre, so that one has been destroyed and we've managed to get hold of the locket. Harry's destroying it as we speak, despite Molly's protests about his arm. Hogwarts is closed, so your plans for returning have been foiled. Sorry about that. Snape will fill you in more fully on the new direction your mission will have to take, but the safety of the kids and everyone who would be attending is more important, unfortunately. We got hold of all the records at the Ministry pertaining to muggle-borns too, so it will be harder for them to enact their plans for breeding mudbloods like cattle."_

Hermione's mind reeled with all he was sharing with her. There were only three left. Three Horcruxes more and they would be free to murder the Dark Lord. Just the Cup, Nagini and Harry remained. The Order had mostly survived the attack. No one she knew had been too badly wounded and they'd done more than she'd ever dreamed they could achieve by rescuing the incarcerated muggleborns and by collecting the records of others to better keep people safe. She assumed that things would get more complicated though if the muggleborns all went into hiding.

Unless they got jobs in the muggle world, they would be without money and without means to support themselves and as exciting as it was to have so recently destroyed two Horcruxes in rather rapid succession, it would not continue. Hermione didn't imagine it would be easy to get herself access into the Lestrange vault, and she could hardly grab the Cup the very first time she went in. She would need to get a plan in place to retrieve it, and and exit strategy would need to be enacted if she meant to make it through the theft and destruction of the horcrux unscathed.

She doubted very much that Voldemort wouldn't be keeping closer tabs on his Horcruxes. She doubted even more than Rodoplhus, Bellatrix and Rabastan would just let her make off with the cup. And if by some miracle she did manage to get it and get away, she would need to have a plan in place for where she would go when she'd done it. Something that would be all the harder given that her marriage to Draco and Rabastan needed to be suggested, accepted and enact before she would have access to the Lestrange vault. Not to mention that the marriage was supposed to be enacted with the idea of procuding heirs for both wizards in the process.

She might not just need to be getting herself out, but possibly any children she had birthed by the time she was able to get the cup. Hermione's head began to hurt and her heart raced inside her chest at the very idea of all she was attempting, the monumental size of the plot she was weaving threatening to overwhelm her and render her to the safety of unconsciousness for a time.

 _"_ _Remus? How is this possible? Werewolves are telepathic?"_

Hermione closed her eyes as she laid back on her bed, focusing on the conversation with the werewolf who was undoubtedly hundreds of miles away from her. She distracted herself from her concerns by indulging her curious nature, needing to know how she was able to communicate with Remus when he was so far away and when she'd never heard of this kind of communication in the past.

 _"_ _When an Alpha werewolf – any werewolf who leads a pack with more than one member – bites others in a particular place under a certain set of circumstances, a mental link can be created. Within a pack it can take place easily enough and allow the Alpha more control over the pack via the ability to communicate when the pack is transformed at the full moon. You haven't heard of it because most werewolves live solitary lives away from each other. Greyback can do it, and he was actually the one who gave me the idea – in a manner of speaking. He keeps the secret close to his chest because he doesn't want the Dark Lord to know. Not when it could be used against the pack. When a connection is established it can become something like a hive mind I the alpha is connected to all the members at once._

 _Anyway with Ron now a werewolf, I am able to create the link with him. I was also able to link with you thanks to one of those potions Snape gave to you. Because you are immune to lycanthropy, rather than becoming wolfish like Bill did when he was savaged, you are able to telepathically link with a werewolf, without actually having to become a werewolf. It's revolutionary, but obviously being kept quiet. Before you ask, Snape can do it too. He took the potion and had me link to him last night while you were…. Otherwise engaged."_

Hermione was mortified to learn Remus obviously knew what she'd been up to last night.

 _"_ _You know, then?"_

She thought at him, suddenly feeling miserable with the idea of anyone knowing the type of depravity she was engaging in. It was one thing to have Snape know. He was one of the people she was being depraved with. The same went for Draco and Rabastan. But the idea of someone as morally good as Remus or any of the Order knowing what she was up to mad her feel sick to her stomach.

 _"_ _I know. I knew when you were caught that this was to be your fate. I knew when Ron was caught that he'd be bitten and this was to be his fate too. Don't ever feel ashamed of the things you have to do for your role in this war, Hermione. Without you and what you are attempting, we will have no chance of retrieving the horcrux from the Lestrange vault. Especially now that Voldemort knows that his Horcruxes are being destroyed. He will not remove it from the hands of his most loyal followers and without you seducing and marrying Lestrange, we have to way of retrieving the Cup."_

Hermione felt tears prickle behind her eyes at his kindness, practically feeling through their connection that were he there, he'd probably have hugged her in his attempt to comfort her. She suddenly realised that if anyone would understand what it was like to be among friends and still feel like a monster, it was Remus.

 _"_ _You don't know what I've already done_." Hermione thought at him miserably in return.

 _"_ _I don't know every detail, no. But I do know that in this role you are expected to sleep with a number of reprehensible men, and probably a few women too. I know that you're expected to marry Rabastan Lestrange and Draco Malfoy. I know you'll most likely have to bear their children before this war is through. It might take a long time for you to be able to get access to the Lestrange vault. Voldemort might move the Cup from there, for all we know. And we still need to get hold of Nagini to kill her as well. It may be, Hermione, that all of us still have a number of years to survive before Voldemort is destroyed."_ Remus replied calmly, his voice in her mind somehow soothing some of her anguish even as he discussed her situation. Sighing heavily, Hermione tried to reign her runaway emotions in once more.

 _"_ _I've had to do worse things than that Remus. I had to kill an innocent man. I killed someone else today. A Death Eater. And I don't even feel bad for killing her. I… I'm sleeping with Draco Malfoy. I'm sleeping with Rabastan Lestrange. Hell, I'm even sleeping with Professor Snape!"_ Hermione admitted, unsure why she was sharing such information with Remus but feeling the strangest urge to share things with him.

 _"_ _You're sleeping with Severus? Why?"_ He thought back and Hermione could sense his shock and a vague feeling of disgust coming from him over the idea of anyone ever shagging Snape.

 _"_ _He didn't tell you? No, I don't suppose he would. I was given this assignment under the assumption that I was more sexually experienced than I happened to be. When I learned I would be expected to participate in revels, where I will basically be used like a human sex-toy, I begged Severus to… educate me. To prepare me for what I will have to endure."_

She waited for him to reply, to offer her some form of apology of the assumption that she'd know what she was doing. To console her over the idea of having to shag Snape as a means to rectify a problem they'd overlooked in their planning. And when she didn't hear anything back from him for more than ten minutes, Hermione felt a tear trikckle from her eyes and down her cheek where it soaked into her hair. Remus's prolonged silence felt damning and Hermione scrunched her face up.

 _"_ _Sorry, Hermione. I was temporarily distracted. Something came out of the locket and tried to attack Harry and Ron while they were destroying it. I can understand why you might ask Severus for assistance. I have learned a number of things about him over the years and one of them is that he possesses a singular ability to remove all emotion from any action he undertakes. Unfortunately I've also discovered through my link to him that he is a… shall we say 'gifted', lover. He will undoubtedly be able to prepare you for what's to come. If you are shagging the others as well, your education should be complete soon enough anyway."_

Hermione smirked to herself at the thought. Yes, she imagined her education would soon be very well-rounded indeed when it came to the ins and out of all things relating to physical intimacy. Not that she planned on ceasing shagging Snape when the time came that she no longer needed the instruction. She planned to use whatever bond she could form to him through repeated physical and sexual contact to convince him that there might still be something worth living for at the other end of the dark tunnel they currently traversed.

 _"_ _How will this telepathic link to you effect things with Draco?"_ She thought at Remus rather than continuing to dwell on the sex.

 _He's not currently an Alpha, so even though he's been biting you, he won't be infecting you and most likely won't be causing you to take on any lupine traits. At least no more than you already might've had before Snape gave you the potion. He might be able to sense that the bite on the back of your neck was left by another werewolf, as he'll likely be able to smell it. By me, in particular if he's learned my scent. But he probably won't think much of it. If Greyback tries he may also be able to create a telepathic link to you. If that happens you need to let me know immediately. This is all new since I've never had a pack before and certainly never with anyone who wasn't a werewolf._

 _As for everything else, it only works if you direct your magic and your thoughts to your bite-mark. It will scar, but shouldn't be too noticeable, though I put it under your hair to better hide it, just in case. You won't constantly have me poking around in your head and overhearing your thoughts, don't worry. But you should know that I'll be able to get vague hints of your emotions, even when the link is closed, if you're experiencing something very strong. So if you're in pain or in danger, I'll probably feel it. I um… might be able to feel it if you experience anything particularly strongly actually. We're not sure yet since Ron hasn't had his first full moon yet and I only bit Severus last night._

 _We wanted to establish the link because there will come a time down the track, barring disaster, where I may be sent in undercover to begin winning over the Pack and I will need your help when that happens. Yours and Draco's. It also allows the Order to communicate with you without you being seen or caught coming back to any property where the Order might be. You were seen by a few spies when you arrived at the Burrow the other day, but luckily Regulus was prowling around keeping an eye on things and he spotted them. In a short while there might be mention of some of Voldemort's spies being killed or disappearing without a trace. Regulus handled everything, but rest assured that he got to them before they could report that you were seen at the Burrow."_

Hermione sighed in relief, her mind still reeling somewhat from the idea that Crookshanks had been Regulus Black all along. It unnerved her immensely, but there was little she could do now other than to learn who Regulus was a person. Remus seemed to trust him, and Severus too. She was willing, for the time being, to put her faith in their judgement regarding the man. She wans't thrilled to learn Remus would be able to sense her emotions if they were strong enough. That seemed like it would get rather messy for her, given she was likely to have to endure the Cruciatus curse, in addition to Rabastan's pleasure curse, not to mention sex in general with a number of people.

Opening her eyes suddenly, Hermione heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and she froze when her door handle jiggled slightly before the door creaked open.

 _"_ _I've got to go, Remus. Someone's investigating what's taking me so long to get changed."_

Hermione watched as Draco poked his head inside the door and met her gaze for a long moment, silently raising his eyebrows as though requesting permission to come in. Reaching for him with one hand, Hermione watched him enter the room and close the door behind him.

 _"_ _I understand. Keep in touch, Hermione. If you need anything I'm only a magical thought away. Just open the link whenever you need me, or even if you just need someone to talk to so you don't lose your mind in there. And don't forget, you have nothing to be ashamed of in this role. Your sacrifice is what will bring down the Dark Lord's reign of terror. Be safe."_

She felt the strangest sense that he was departing, almost as though it were phone line and he'd just clicked off. It was rather alarming given that it was all happening inside her own head, but Hermione was rather pleased and somewhat relieved to have such a link to one of the Order. To Remus, in particular. His status as a werewolf would allow him a unique perspective on the way she no longer felt worthy in the company of her friends and the Order. He would understand what it was like to stand in their presence and feel dirty; tainted; unwelcome. None of which he actually was, but she knew he felt it just as she did.

"Are you alright, Mina?" Draco asked her when he reached where she was sprawled on the end of her bed. Hermione blinked up at him, returning her gaze to him and recalling that she needed to be here in the present with him, not lost inside her own thoughts. She needed to work on her Constant Vigilance. Moody would be rolling in his grave if he could see her so distracted whilst in the presence of a possible enemy.

"I'm fine. Just really tired. Climbing the stairs made me a bit dizzy," Hermione lied smoothly to the werewolf before her, "Probably due to the blood loss. I was going to get dressed too, but then I noticed this."

She peeled open the black Death Eater cloak he'd wrapped around her to cover her dignity earlier, revealing her naked body and the amount of blood caked on her skin. It was dried and cracking in places. It had also spilled in wretched waves all the way down her front, across her stomach, over her small heart-shaped pubic hair patch and down her thighs.

"Need my help with that?" he offered, eyeing the blood as though he might help her by licking it all off.

"I'd rather shower it off," Hermione admitted, not much fancying the idea of having her lick the blood from her skin, "But I wasn't sure I could face those stairs again so soon without falling down them."

"You could have been killed today," he murmured, taking her hands when she lifted both arms and held her hands out towards him, "I shouldn't have given you one of those pain potions. They're great because they make everything stop hurting for a little while, but they're dangerous because they also mean you can't feel any pain, any wound, until the potion wears off. If you hadn't noticed the blood, you might've bled out and died before realising what was wrong."

"In this instance, I think it might've been for the best," Hermione admitted truthfully, pulling on his arms until he stepped between her spread legs and stretched himself out on top of her on the bed. Hermione revelled in the feel of his weight pressing into the mattress, somehow making her feel more grounded though she'd still been feeling slightly giddy with the Order's achievements for the day.

"Why is that?" he wanted to know, using his grip on her hands to interlace their fingers, pressing her hands to the bed above her head and peering down into her face with an unreadable expression.

"Because I'm relatively sure that when it wears off I'm going to be sore all over," Hermione admitted, "I think I might've pulled every muscle in my body within the last twenty four hours. Mostly thanks to you."

"You're welcome," he drawled, smirking at her.

Hermione smirked in return before sticking her tongue out at him. She squeaked in surprise when he pounced on it, sucking her tongue into his mouth in a way that made parts of her tingle strangely. Sighing softly into his mouth, Hermione snogged him lazily. Her eyes slid closed and she felt that strange contentment at his touch once more. In fact she felt so content she could almost drop right off to sleep there on the bed.

"I could sleep," Malfoy admitted as though he'd sense her mood when he pulled back from her several minutes later, his voice husky with desire but his eyes tired.

"It's the middle of the afternoon," Hermione reminded him, smiling fondly, "But I could sleep too. We didn't exactly get much rest last night."

"That, we did not," he agreed, smirking at the memory of the sex-filled evening they'd had, "And who cares if it's the middle of the afternoon? There's not much any of us can do for the Dark Lord right now. I don't even know where he went. Snape will be finished with the wounded soon and until we're summoned again when the Dark Lord returns, we don't have anything else we need to be doing. Or I don't, anyway."

"Papa asked me to keep an eye on his potions," Hermione reminded him.

"He just wanted to give you something to do so that it wouldn't seem like he was sending you to your room for being naked in front of everyone downstairs," Draco rolled his eyes, "He's furious about something too, so it might be best to avoid him until he's had a chance to calm down."

"I'm still covered in blood," Hermione told him even though she idea of sleeping was entirely too appealing.

"Not for long," Draco replied, lifting himself slightly and pulling his wand out of his pocket.

Hermione blinked at the slightest tingling feeling as he vanished the blood from her skin before using a cleaning charm to remove any traces.

"Any more excuses?" he asked, smirking at her as he put his wand away once more.

"We're not under the covers?" Hermione offered, "And I'm still naked."

"I like it when you're naked," he argued, "But we can get under the covers if you want."

"I'm putting some clothes on," Hermione told him when he climbed off her and headed for the other end of the bed.

"Spoil sport," he accused, though he chuckled when Hermione stuck her tongue out at him again.

Hermione fished a clean pair of knickers from inside her chest of drawers and pulled them on, not even caring that they were a boring pair of red cotton ones instead of something sexier. She also rummaged around in her cupboard until she located a black camisole top with ones of those in-built bras. She waved her wand at herself when she examined her reflection, removing the last traces of dust, blood and rubble from the number of times she'd fallen or been tackled during the earlier battle.

When she looked over at Draco he was in the process of removing his leather hunting tunic followed by his trousers until he wore only black silk boxers. Waving her wand to clean him up too though he didn't seem to have had the misfortune to fall or be tackled, Hermione headed towards the opposite side of the bed before climbing in and burrowing under the covers.

"Your face is turning purple, you know?" he asked her softly as he spooned himself up behind her and looped one arm around her waist, cuddling her to him firmly.

"I can't feel it," Hermione replied sleepily, "Is it bad?"

"That bruise salve hasn't helped any. What did you say happened?" he asked again, peering at her over her shoulder with the faintest glimmer of concern in his eyes.

"One of the Order people punched me. I was sneaking up on him but he saw me coming. He cast a Bombarda curse that threw me across the room in a blast of rubble and he swung at me with a closed fist as he did it. Clipped me just as I was blown back," Hermione said, thinking of the way Fred had fired the curse and punched her on her command.

She would have to remember to thank him for making it look more genuine that she'd been participating in the duel.

"Do you know who it was?" Malfoy growled, an expression of anger crossing his face as though he didn't like the idea of her being hurt. Hermione suspected that his concern was genuine and she wasn't sure what to make of it.

Everything she knew about Draco Malfoy from before Snape had caught her was that he was selfish, conceited, a bully and didn't seem to care about anyone but himself. Yet since she'd been forced into his company, he'd been nice to her. At least, nice by his standards. He still seemed conceited, though Hermione knew he harboured a deep sense of self-loathing as a result of being a werewolf. He'd expressed concern for her, he'd held her together when she'd cried after going back to the Order yesterday and he'd taken care of her when they'd been having sex, both with just the two of them, and also when Rabastan was involved.

None of which were actions that fit with all she'd known of him from being in the same classes as him for six years. Was he simply being nice because he believed he didn't know who she was other than that she was supposedly the daughter of his godfather? Did her status as a Death Eater make him more amiable to her as a person? Was he simply shallow and ensnared by her currently flawless appearance? Had he been tricked into believing her to be devious and wicked, a dark witch who fit in right among the Death Eaters and would do whatever it took to survive?

Or was he somehow playing her as well?

"I don't know who any of the Order are," Hermione feigned ignorance, "Though I imagine I might recognise Potter if I were to spot him, based on his description. I don't know who hit me. Some boy with red hair."

"A Weasley," Malfoy growled, hatred flashing in his eyes.

"He did look a bit like that Order member that you and Greyback infected the other day," Hermione offered, "A bit older, perhaps."

"Probably one of the twins," Malfoy guessed, "Bastards."

"I hardly think a punch to the face and a defensive spell to repel me from his vicinity is all that bad Draco," Hermione told him quietly, "At least he didn't throw a Killing curse at me."

"Still though. He shouldn't have been hitting you. A duel is one thing, but throwing a punch like a muggle? Despicable. And at a girl? When I find out which one of them it was, I'll string them up by their thumbs," Malfoy threatened darkly.

Hermione knew he meant well, but she didn't at all like the idea of him going after Fred and George. Or after any of the Order, for that matter. Closing her eyes, Hermione decided to leave the topic alone, lest she argue herself into a corner. She burrowed down more securely in Malfoy's arms, noting how warm he was to cuddle. As the pain potion she'd consumed began to wear off, her body was beginning to feel cold. She suspected blood loss was to blame. It was beginning to make her whole body ache as well and she'd prefer to be asleep before the potion completely wore off and she had to endure what she didn't doubt was going to be agony.

"Draco?" Hermione asked when she was almost asleep, her mind having wandered back to the boy cuddling her so close, cradling her protectively in his arms, "Can I ask you something?"

"What do you want to know?" he asked, soundingly like he had been dozing off a bit.

"What exactly is the deal between you and Rabastan?" Hermione asked him seriously.

"Deal?" he asked, his voice suddenly wary and his body going tense against her back.

Warning bells began to sound inside her head at his reaction, suggesting they did have some kind of deal that they didn't want her to know about.

"You seem to be friends?" Hermione said feigning ignorance of his sudden nervousness.

"Oh…" he said, sounding relieved at her supposedly innocent question, "Yeah, we are. The long time spent in Azkaban and in his animagus form means that his mental age is more on par with you and me than with most of the others in the brethren. He's thirty-two, but mentally he's only about twenty. We get along well enough and the fact that we both crave physical contact brought us into closer quarters."

"You said you've never shagged him?" Hermione probed.

"I haven't," he agreed, though he sounded amused by her line of questioning, "You're thinking about the fact that he snogged me and wondering what else you might be able to witness the two of us doing to one another, aren't you?"

"Well, I hadn't been," Hermione smirked wickedly, though the idea of the two of them going at each other made her stomach flip-flop strangely, "But now I know I'm going to have an incredibly vivid dream."

"I'd rather fuck you than him," he reminded her, pressing his lips to her ear as though he could smell her arousal at the thought and it was turning him on.

"Yet you seem as comfortable with him as you do with me," Hermione pointed out, "And you bit him in the same spot you bit me last night to get him back to feeling human and in his right mind."

"The pain of the bite grounds him," Draco shrugged, jostling her slightly, "But I won't lie to you. I'm fond of him. I don't fancy men, you might recall me saying, despite the amount I've been snogging him in the past day or so. I… he thinks that when the time comes that the Dark Lord begins implementing the need to have his followers all married off that I… well, I won't be…"

"You think the Dark Lord will view your lycanthropy as a reason not to wed you off to some pureblooded little witch to further the Malfoy bloodline," Hermione surmised, having already heard as much from Snape but nonetheless amused to hear Malfoy trying to explain it.

"Father told me last night that the Dark Lord has demanded he and my mother work harder towards producing another heir. More than one, if possible. He means to replenish his army with the children of all his followers. Just as me and you have joined the ranks, so too will almost all of the children of Death Eaters and those faithful to the cause," Draco told her, "But he doesn't have much use for the only branded werewolf. Bass thinks that the Dark Lord will still expect me to make some kind of commitment towards his little match-making idea, even if he's not interested in seeing me further the Malfoy line because of my condition."

"Papa said the same thing," Hermione said carefully, "He said he thinks the Dark Lord will still try to force you to marry as a means to better control you and to keep you from being too influenced by Greyback into rebelling against the Dark Lord's orders."

"I'll be expected to marry someone," Draco nodded his head, "But no one of pure descent. Even with his ideals about declaring non-pure offspring as pure based on whoever their Death Eater parent is, he won't want a werewolf marrying some pure little princess. So I have two choices. I can resist the idea of marrying anyone, which will undoubtedly see me punished and expected to fuck as many brats as I can into as many women as possible… or I can marry someone… someone who might also be asked to marry someone else…"

"Is that where Rabastan fits into it?" Hermione asked slyly.

"Bass and I already get along. He's the closest thing I've got to a friend these days, outside of you anyway," Draco hedged, looking and sounding rather nervous again.

Hermione wondered if he was worried about her reaction to the idea of marrying two wizards at the same time or if he was concerned by the idea of having anyone think he would technically be marrying another man as a part of the deal.

"And Rabastan has been less than subtle in his suggestions towards the idea of marrying me," Hermione nodded her head slowly, pretending it was dawning on her that she might have to marry both of them.

"He means to legalise polygamy, you know? The Dark Lord, that is," Draco said carefully, tilting his head a little more.

"I see," Hermione murmured as though it were news to her, "And who do you think might be interested in being with more than one wizard at any one time?"

He eyed her carefully, as though trying to work out whether she was being coy or whether she was offended by the notion.

"You already knew, didn't you?" he asked finally, his grey eyes darting between each of her brown ones as he tried to read her expression, "You already knew that me and Bass were attempting to work it with the Dark Lord to both have you?"

"You would do well to remember that while I might be new among the company of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, I am far from stupid," Hermione told him in reply, "I take it the original plan was to test the waters and see how things went and how agreeable I might be towards the notion of marrying both of you before any official courting process would be engaged?"

"We were intending to see how things went while you and I finished our final year of schooling," Draco admitted, still watching her scrutinisingly.

"And with Hogwarts being inaccessible and no longer on the cards?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I honestly have no idea. You're still sixteen. I'm barely seventeen," Draco ran his free hand through his white-blonde hair and sighed.

"And Rabastan is twice my age," Hermione pointed out.

"Not mentally, he isn't," Draco reminded her, "Mentally he's nineteen or twenty. Not that age is ever much of a factor when it comes to pureblood marriage arrangements."

Hermione nodded her head thoughtfully as she considered him.

"Just how do you imagine some kind of bond between the three of us would work, Draco?" Hermione asked him, raising her eyebrows, "We both know that as a werewolf you are prone to being extremely possessive. I imagine that as your wife, you would believe me to be your property and not be very willing to share me with anyone. How might Rabastan fit into that kind of equation?"

Draco's pale eyebrows rose slowly as he considered her calm demeanour and her frank line of questioning. Hermione suspected she had shocked him with her lack of anger or insulted behaviour over the notion of marrying two men at the same time.

"I did mention being fond of him," he said quietly, glancing towards the door as though Rabastan might come through it at any moment, "I… I don't like blokes…."

"But you like him," Hermione felt her lips twitch on a smile.

"Don't smirk at me, witch," he warned her, "I don't mean that I…"

"Draco," Hermione cut him off, rolling over until she was lying on her back and could peer into his face fully, "This would be much easier if we didn't have to deal with you ego or your embarrassment getting in the way of things. Don't get defensive with me over what you do or don't feel for Bass or for me. Just tell me the truth. The complete truth. I'm not going to judge you one way or the other if you fancy him. What I need to know is how you imagine any kind of commitment, either through marriage or something else like the fact that, oh I don't know - we had a _threesome_ , will work. Do you perceive that you would be willing to share me with him?"

"I already did, didn't I? We did have a threesome," he smirked lecherously at her for a moment and the old Draco Malfoy she so recalled from their younger days at Hogwarts flashed in his eyes for just a moment.

"We did. But all that proved is that you are both sexually active men who happened to enjoy having sex with the same woman," Hermione pointed out, "It's easy to have sex with someone and have it mean very little if that person doesn't matter to you. But if what I suspect you're trying to insinuate is the case, I would be your wife. You would be my husband. How would you feel about him also being my husband? About him being your husband? Because that is what he would be. It wouldn't merely be that you would be my husband and he would be my other husband. You two would also be joined in bonds of marriage. And you would have to share me with him. Can you do that?"

He looked conflicted as he stared into her face, as though he waged some internal debate.

"I'm possessive by nature," he told her quietly, "Even before I was bitten, I was possessive of the things I considered to be mine. I don't like to share anything of mine with anyone else. I'm an only child; I'm used to getting everything I want, to being pampered and adored by my parents. I'm used to being the centre of attention. Being a werewolf means that on top of those traits, I also have a raging monster lurking inside my skin willing to rip the throat out of anyone who looks sideways at me, let alone at something I consider to be mine."

"Hence my questions," Hermione shot him a crooked grin, "You'd be expected to share me with Bass. Sexually. Romantically. There would be parts of me that only he would get to see. And others that only you would get to see. You wouldn't have to just want me or care for me, Draco. You'd have to want him and care for him too. He would be as much your husband as mine. Just as I would be as much his wife as yours."

"He doesn't share well either," Draco smirked for a moment, "And I have admitted to being fond of him."

"Fond enough not to rip his throat out if you were to walk in on me and him laughing or cuddling or fucking?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Fond enough that I bloody well let him snog me to make you happy," he grumbled.

"You don't have to look put out about it," Hermione chuckled, "I think we can both agree that he's a good kisser."

Draco sighed as though the idea made him weary.

"What exactly are you asking of me here Mina?" he asked her seriously.

"I'm asking whether or not the two of you can cooperate and care for one another to both marry me or if you think you'll kill each other over the idea of sharing me," Hermione stated bluntly.

She watched as Malfoy sat up, bending his knees up under the covers and hooking his elbows over them as he faced towards the door. Hermione sensed that he was extremely conflicted over the idea of sharing anything. She didn't doubt it ate away at him that his werewolf status meant he would have to share a wife or become a rake and shag kids into the bellies of any number of half-bloods, mudbloods and Imperiused whores.

"I've never bitten anyone else, you know?" he said quietly after a long time spent staring at his hands.

Hermione sat up slowly as well, smoothing her fingers over the pale expanse of his bare back. A number of scars littered his flesh, some pink and fresh, some older, pale against pale flesh until they were almost invisible but for their shiny, silky finish. He was warm to touch and Hermione could feel that he was trembling ever so slightly.

"I've never even wanted to. Not in the whole time I've been a werewolf. With Bass it felt like second nature. He was losing control in front of me and I caught him before he could hit the floor. He was writhing and snarling the way I do every full moon and every time Greyback forces the change upon me. It was like watching myself, only inside someone else's body. I caught him and I dragged him into my room rather than leaving him in the corridor where anyone might see him losing control like that, knowing I hate it when anyone sees me lose control like that. Before I even knew what I was doing, I'd bitten him."

He shook his head, still not meeting her gaze.

"It helped. I don't know why, but it helped him. He got himself back together and back in order. And then he just stayed there sitting with me. He didn't recoil at being touched or bitten by a werewolf the way I'd have done if our roles were reversed. He didn't ask me why I'd helped him or why I'd bitten him. He just sat there on the floor of my bedroom with me."

Hermione traced patterns across his back with the tips of her fingers, drawing pictures and writing nonsense across his skin as she listened. She suspected there was more that he had to say. That if she interrupted him, he might never tell her.

"Ever since I was bitten, everyone else recoils from me. Even my parents treated me differently after I was infected. Anyone who didn't know what I am treated me mostly the same as ever, but only because they didn't know I'm a monster. They didn't understand what I've lived through. Bass knows. He witnessed all of it. And he just sat there leaning against me like it wasn't odd. Like he needed the contact as much as I did…. And that was that. We have a weird, non-sexual thing where we touch without it being sexualised and we talk to each other and goof off as though we're idiot teenagers instead of soldiers in a war. He rarely comments that I bite him sometimes. He doesn't complain about it. As far as I can tell, he likes it when I do it."

Draco glanced over his shoulder at her.

"And then there's you," he murmured quietly, reaching out slightly and stroking the back of his finger gently down her uninjured cheek as though he adored her, "You turn up in our midst - where you don't belong - trailing after Severus and projecting that utterly conflicted nature. Wicked, but innocent. Ruthless, but kind. Unafraid of me despite the fact that I'm a monster. Unafraid of Bass even though he's a different kind of monster. You helped me when you didn't even know my name. When you were standing there watching Weasley hang in those chains, I wanted to bite you. I tried to bite you. All through tea and then dinner when we were properly introduced, I wanted to get you alone so that I could bite you."

"You also wanted to accuse me of being someone I'm not," Hermione reminded him, leaning in to press a line of soft kisses across his left shoulder-blade.

She was learning far more about him than she'd ever hoped and it made her head spin to recall she'd really only been in the presence of Malfoy and the other Death Eaters for almost a week. Things moved fast in this new, messed up life she was living.

"I _wanted_ to bite you, princess," he whispered, turning towards he a little more, his grey eyes dancing over her face as though looking for some reaction to the news and to the pet-name. "I've never wanted to bite anyone else. I bit Bass the first time on pure instinct. Since then I've felt the need to bite him a number of times and acted upon it, but not particularly because I _wanted_ to. It felt more like I had to. But with you, I wanted to bite you. I still want to. This mark on your shoulder… every time I look at it, I feel good. And after so long feeling anything but good, I don't want to risk losing you – losing the ability to feel good again."

Hermione watched the way his eyes rested seriously upon her face. His expression was guarded against the vulnerability of revealing so much to her, as though he feared her rejection of him. He reached over carefully, his fingers tracing the bite mark upon her shoulder carefully. Hermione shivered at the feel of being touched there, noticing idly that it was sensitive.

"I don't know if I can be with you and with him," Draco went on in a low murmur, "I don't know if I'm cut out for a wife and a husband. I don't even know what it would mean to have anything with you. But I do know one thing."

"What's that?" Hermione whispered, her eyes fixed upon his face and drinking in the strange intensity he emitted as he watched her.

"I'm possessive of both of you," he admitted quietly, "I'm possessive of you when he touches you. I'm possessive of him when you touch him. And I'm territorial as fuck when anyone else gets too close to either one of you."

"This morning," Hermione began softly, her eyes dancing over his face curiously, "When you found Rabastan and I in the shower together… were you jealous?"

Draco eyes flashed gold for a moment, the wolf inside his soul peeking out and Hermione wondered what that meant.

"Not exactly," he said, his brow furrowing slightly, "I was… possessive… but of both you as at the same time. Together. Like you were both… mine."

Hermione felt a small smile begin to pull the corners of her mouth up. Not in amusement, but in happiness. She didn't understand it. To be honest she didn't even know why she felt happy to hear him call her his. It was certainly promising for the state of her mission, but it wasn't something she ought to be thrilled about. And yet, she felt exactly that. Thrilled.

"I…" Hermione bit her lip, watching him in return, "I don't know what to make of all this. I only met you a few days ago… But I feel like I've known you forever. Like you're a part of me..."

He watched her witch such guarded hope in his expression that Hermione's heart broke just a little bit for him. What had he been silently enduring since he'd become a werewolf? How lonely and ostracized did he feel that someone he barely knew could have such a profound effect on him?

"You don't object to the idea of… being with both of us?" he asked, "Of possibly marrying both of us?"

"I barely even known either of you, Draco," Hermione sighed softly, "And there's also the fact that in this role as one of so few female Death Eaters, I will be expected to sexually service many of the other Death Eaters among the ranks. I meant what I said about the idea of not being your girlfriend. If you're already possessive over the idea of other people touching me, things will get complicated."

"Do you want to be sleeping with a number of other people outside of me and Bass?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"How am I to know?" Hermione asked, "I've barely met anyone else among the Death Eaters. And I won't have much of a choice, or so I've been led to believe."

"That's at revels. It's not like the Dark Lord is going to go around forcing you to have sex with everyone you meet, Mina," Draco replied, looking baffled by her answer.

"Maybe not, but the fact is that I'm still sixteen. I'm just a kid. One who apparently won't get to finish her schooling after all if the rumours about Hogwarts being sealed off are true. I can understand the idea of implementing a match-making thing brokering marriages and agreements among the followers, and insisting we all begin to procreate. But I'm still a kid myself, Draco. So are you. I should be allowed to do reckless, foolish things like sleeping with a total stranger or… I don't know, getting drunk at a party when I shouldn't. I shouldn't be thinking too heavily about whether or not marrying two men at the same time will be more complicated than marrying one."

"So you do want to shag other people?" he clarified.

"I don't want to be locked into something and potentially hexed or savaged for following a whim if that whim lands me in bed with someone who isn't you or Bass," Hermione told him truthfully.

"And you'd be fine if me or Bass was screwing around?" he asked, "You realise that when the Dark Lord has Severus begin giving everyone fertility potions, you're going to have to be careful who you fuck?"

"I realise that. I'm not saying I'm some slut who wants to spread her legs for everyone, I'm just hedging at the idea of formal commitment before it's required," Hermione sighed, feeling her weariness grow as the complications seemed to continue piling up, "And to be honest I have no idea how I'd feel about you or Rabastan shagging other people. If they were delicious-looking, I might participate, for all I know. I do know that I'm a hypocrite when I say that I have one particularly firm notion that I don't want messed with, whoever I end up married to."

"Oh?" he raised one eyebrow curiously.

"I don't believe I will be a particularly good mother to my own children when the time comes that I start having them. As such, I don't want to raise anyone's kids that haven't come from my womb. Which suggests that whomever I am to marry would need to keep it in his pants or use contraceptives. Preferably the first option. And it would make me a hypocrite to demand of my husbands that they not have children with anyone but me when I would be having children with each of them."

"Do you imagine any of us are overly thrilled by the notion of having kids at all?" he asked, smirking at her words, "I can assure you that when the time comes that I require an heir, I only intend to have the one. If you marry me, you'll be raising only one child of my bloodline."

"And if I marry Bass too?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows challengingly.

"Bass is no bigger on children than I am. I imagine he'll make sure he only ever has the one and that it will be with his wife. Given how taken he is with you, I don't doubt that will be you," Draco informed her.

Hermione nodded her head slowly, her mind reeling at the idea.

"What about if the Dark Lord insists that everyone has lots of kids to flesh out his army inn years to come?" she asked in a whisper, "What if you were commanded to provide a certain number of children each? Possibly with more than one witch."

"There are ways around fertility potion," Draco shrugged, "And though I don't know how you could possibly ever do so, don't forget that I'm a werewolf."

"That doesn't affect your ability to sire children," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"No, but it does affect my sense of smell enough that I can smell when a woman is cycling and her body is receptive to falling pregnant," he replied.

"Really?" Hermione asked.

Draco nodded his head, "I can even smell that you're currently not… I don't know the terminology, but your body isn't just currently not fertile and receptive… it's not doing anything at all that could even suggest pregnancy."

"Papa gave me something to prevent me from being able to ovulate at all, so I won't have to worry about getting pregnant and I won't be inconvenienced by monthly bleeding and the other side effects," Hermione told him truthfully.

"How long does it work for?"

"A few months, I think," Hermione said, lowering herself back down on the bed when her body began to twinge uncomfortably as the pain potion began wearing off, "Though given the amount of blood I lost today, I might need an extra dose just to be safe."

"Probably a good idea," he murmured watching her as she shuffled around under the blankets, rolling away from him slightly to face the far wall.

Hermione sighed contentedly when she felt him curl his body around hers protectively, his arms sliding around her as he spooned up behind her and burrowed his face into the back of her neck.

"Mind telling me why you smell like another werewolf, princess?" he asked in a growly voice a few moments later.

"Probably because I was attacked by one during the battle today," Hermione replied, forcing herself not to tense up or react, suspecting he was listening to her heartbeat.

"Who attacked you?" he demanded.

"I don't know who he was. I was tackled from behind and rolled across the floor before being dragged into someone's lap. Whoever he was, he bit the back of my neck," Hermione said, figuring it would be best to be honest about it. If he could smell whether or not she was ovulating, he'd be able to sense the lingering scent of Remus on her skin and might continue doing so thanks to Remus's bite, "I think he was trying to snap my spine with his teeth or something, but I hexed him before he could."

"Where did he bite you?" Draco asked, lifting his head and shifting his hand so he could move her hair to the side.

"There, on the back, under my hair," Hermione showed him, "Thanks to the pain potion I can't really feel it very much yet, but it hurt when he bit me."

"I don't know the owner of the scent. Must've been one of the Order. And they don't have many werewolves. I think there's only Weasley – the idiot we infected the other day – and the mutt my cousin married. Lupin."

"I didn't see who it was. He bit me in passing and I hexed whoever it was. He dropped me with a yelp and the next thing I knew, they were all suddenly disapparating out of there," Hermione cushioned her lies in the truth to make them more genuine.

"Could've been Weasley. Never known Lupin to embrace the monster within. Weasley might be suffering the effects of the bite and losing control of himself, especially in the height of battle like that," Draco mused softly, his fingers exploring the bite on the back of her neck.

When he slid his hand back over her hip, he made sure to smooth it under the hem of her camisole top. Hermione groaned softly when he accompanied the caress with a fresh bite to the top of her shoulder where he'd been leaving the other marks on her.

"Do you really think I need to lose any more blood today, Draco?" Hermione asked, shivering in his hold when he lapped at the blood from the fresh wound lazily.

"It's a bad habit," he admitted between licks, "And I don't like the idea of another wolf marking you."

"Well you're the only wolf I'm interested in being marked by," Hermione lied quietly as she let her eyes slide closed.

"Mine," he whispered, drawing her closer to his body in a tighter embrace as he cuddled her to him firmly. Hermione felt another of those inexplicable surges of happiness at the possessively spoken word even as she drifted towards slumber in her exhaustion.


	21. Chapter 21: Castigation

**WARNINGS:** **This chapter really marks the beginning of the descent into darkness. Things get worse for Mina from here on out.**

* * *

 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 21: Castigation**

* * *

... "You hold me without touch,

Keep me without chains.

I never wanted anything so much.

Se me free, leave me be,

I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity" ...

\- **Gravity (Sara Bareilles)**

* * *

Hermione didn't know how long she'd been asleep when she stirred at the sound of her bedroom door being opened and soft voices arguing. She felt warm and safe and she really didn't want to wake up or have to get out of bed yet, so the disturbance was far from welcome. She was still mostly asleep and even the tiniest sliver of wakefulness was enough to make her realise that she was in pain.

A lot of it.

Frowning, Hermione cracked one eye open to glare at whoever it was that was interrupting her slumber and alerting her to the pain in her body that made her feel like she'd been trampled by an entire, rampaging herd of hippogriffs before being used like a football in a game of soccer played by dragons. She felt a flicker of recognition at the sight of Rabastan coming into the bedroom through the door, still dressed in his Death Eater robes and currently engaged in some kind of muted argument with a similarly clad though slightly dishevelled looking Regulus Black. She couldn't truthfully say she was thrilled to see either of them, and not just because they'd woken her either. Closing her eyes once more, Hermione resolved to listen in on their conversation and feign sleep until such time that doing so proved fruitless or until she could actually fall back to sleep.

"You can't just drag me into some poor girl's room, Bass," Regulus was arguing, clearly still pretending he didn't know her and had never been formally introduced.

"Do you think that after almost fourteen years, I'm going to let you out of my sight any time soon, Reg?" Rabastan retorted and Hermione noticed from their casual use of nicknames for one another and the way they interacted that there had clearly been a time when they'd been friends.

Neither wizard sounded particularly hostile, despite the fact that Regulus had been missing for many long years and masquerading as a mudblood's cat for the past four years. If those facts bothered Rabastan beyond the fact that Regulus was actually absent from his presence, he didn't let on.

"So we can go to wherever you've been staying," Regulus said in response, "We can't impose in Severus's house. With his daughter. Merlin, he'll murder us. And anyway, she's already in bed with someone."

Hermione watched them through her eyelashes as they both looked over the sight of her snuggled in the middle of the bed with Draco wrapped around her tightly. Regulus eyed her like he didn't like the idea of her all snuggled up to Malfoy and given the time he'd spent as her familiar, she didn't entirely blame him. Rabastan eyed them with that amused yet detached expression for a moment before she caught sight of a possessive flash in his eyes.

"You care about them," Regulus accused of Rabastan quietly, seeming to sense Rabastan's shift of mood as though he too had caught that flash in his eyes, "What are they to you, Bass? Tell me you don't actually have a vested interest in them? They're just a pair of kids. What can they possibly mean to someone like you?"

"They're…" Rabastan shook his head as though the words to explain the situation and his feelings eluded him.

Regulus was still watching him closely, looking intrigued and perhaps even a little bit concerned by whatever it was that his former friend felt for two teenagers.

"You've replaced me then? With the Malfoy kid? With Snape's daughter? Come on Bass, really?" Regulus said and if Hermione didn't know better, she'd almost think that for all that his voice lilted as though he were teasing, he was perhaps a little bit hurt over the idea that Rabastan seemed so intent on the two of them.

"No one can replace you, Regulus," Rabastan disagreed with the man and Hermione tipped her head slightly to get a better look at the two of them, trying to get a read on their expressions and trying to work out what they were to one another.

"But they're important to you?" Regulus ascertained.

"If I get my way, I'm going to marry both of them," Rabastan admitted, "And the Dark Lord is ordinarily more than happy to let me have my way, given my unerring servitude. He's especially willing to allow it in this instance. Especially when he wants to begin pairing off his followers with wives so we can all fuck heirs into them and further his army in the new generation. To ensure he'll have more willing soldiers in the years to come and another means through which to ensure our loyalty and threaten us all into submission should anyone begin entertaining notions of defecting from the cause."

"And you picked this pair of kids to be who you end up paired with?" Regulus asked, "You're willing to marry another man? To share your wife? He's a werewolf, Bass."

"I know what he is," Rabastan retorted, narrowing his eyes on Regulus as though he was annoyed by the reminder and by the judgemental tone in Regulus's voice, "And I've already shared her with him. It was delightful."

"You've both shagged her?" Regulus feigned ignorance of her mission, "Loose, is she?"

"Don't talk about my future wife like that if you want to keep all your fucking fingers, Regulus," Rabastan warned him quietly, "And I'll have you know she seems to have inherited a number of things from Severus, including his proclivity for being gifted in the sack and willingness to give anything a go. Me and the pup had at her last night and again this morning."

"I'm surprised she can still walk then," Regulus replied, though he refused to look contrite about calling her loose. Not that Hermione blamed him. He was meant to be pretending he had no idea who she was and showing concern for someone he'd once called friend. It made perfect sense to her that he might insult her integrity and otherwise question her character to better cover his own tracks and ingratiate himself to an old friend by showing concern for his wellbeing.

"So am I, actually," Rabastan admitted, smirking at the idea of what he and Draco had done to her, "She did well, especially considering she'd never taken on two blokes at once before. And you, old friend? I expect we have some catching up to do."

"This hardly seems the place. We're going to disturb them at this rate," Regulus said, furthering the idea that he didn't want to be there in the bedroom with a pair of teenagers he supposedly didn't know.

"I mean to join them," Rabastan told him, "And you are coming with me."

"You want to nap? Now? With me? And the two of them? We won't all fit in that bed," Regulus said incredulously, "And the Dark Lord will hardly be thrilled that instead of interrogating me and demanding to know what I've been doing for fourteen years and why I disappeared, you instead climbed into bed and snuggled with me."

"Don't be thick, you git," Rabastan rolled his eyes at Regulus before Hermione watched him point his wand at the bed. It shifted slightly beneath her and she realised he'd just enlarged it so all four of them could fit. As soon as he'd done so he began shrugging out of his Death Eater garb and his robes. When he wore only his trousers he turned on Regulus and Hermione watched with some interest as he began peeling Regulus out of his clothing as well. He didn't comment on the idea that he was meant to be interrogating Regulus instead of undressing him.

He didn't ask where Regulus had been, what he'd been doing, why he'd disappeared or why he hadn't come when summoned by the Dark Lord until today. He didn't look like he even particularly wanted to know the answer.

"You haven't changed so very much then," Regulus muttered when Rabastan pulled the shirt he wore off over his head and tossed it on the floor.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight again, Reg. Ever," Rabastan told him in a low, serious voice that belied the detached expression on his face, "And I know you crave physical contact as much as I do."

Something passed between the wizards then that Hermione couldn't even begin to understand. A lifetime's worth of friendship allowing them a means of understanding one another in ways she might never unravel.

"I didn't spend most of my life in prison and locked in my animal form, so I don't need to be petted, coddled and otherwise touched constantly the way you most likely do," Regulus argued with him, "I changed between forms almost every day. I have a firm grasp on my humanity."

"Well, I don't," Rabastan admitted, "So I'm going to climb into bed with that delectable little witch and my favourite werewolf. And then I'm going to drape the two of them over half of me like a blanket. I'm also going to drag you in next to me to drape you over the other half until as much of my body as humanly possible is being touched by others. Now take your trousers off, or I'll strip you out of them too."

"You're too bossy for your own good, you bloody wanker," Regulus accused him but Hermione could tell he was amused and that he clearly cared for Rabastan. From the way they interacted and their similarity in age, she suspected they might've been best friends before Rabastan went to prison and Regulus went into hiding.

The idea made her feel sad, thinking of her own best friends and how this mission and the circumstances of her life seemed to be tearing her further and further away from them. Even knowing how she'd felt like she didn't belong in their presence, there was nothing she wouldn't give right then to draw Harry and Ron and Ginny into her embrace and simply hold them until she felt better.

Regulus stripped out of his trousers until he wore only his boxers and Rabastan removed his own as well. When they both stood before each other in just their boxers, Hermione caught the way they eyed the scars the other each bore. She knew the feeling. It was hard not to see a friend after even a short period and notice how different they looked. What would it be like after fourteen years of separation?

"Azkaban was hard on you," Regulus said quietly, eyeing his friend closely.

Rabastan didn't answer, but Hermione could tell that he seemed to realise Regulus had fared far better than he'd done since they'd parted. Neither of them spoke again and Hermione watched through slitted lids as Rabastan rounded the side of the bed, peeled back the covers and climbed into bed beside her. Regulus followed him.

She shuffled slightly in Draco's tight embrace when Rabastan slid across the sheets until he was almost pressed against her. Draco's snug hold around her meant that she couldn't really do much to accommodate Rabastan. And for some reason, she found herself wanting to accommodate him. He unnerved her and she was still convinced he was somewhat creepy, but she found herself rather craving the physical contact of having him touch her right then, despite the amount of pain she was currently in. Thanks, in no small part, to what he'd done to her that morning and the previous night.

"You awake, love?" Rabastan asked when he noticed the way she moved.

Draco's arm was slung across the bed beneath her neck, the other curled around her waist and holding her close. She tried to twist slightly to better make space for Rabastan and Hermione hissed in a breath through her teeth at the agony that ricocheted through her body, making her ache in places she didn't even know she had.

"Mina?" Rabastan asked, his brow furrowing as he froze and stared at her.

Hermione could only whimper in return. Her body felt like it was on fire. Her stomach ached wretchedly from the Sectumsempra and her lower half throbbed dully with the pain of being so well-used. She had bumps and bruises and scrapes and they all hurt terribly.

"Probably sore from the battle earlier," Regulus offered from behind Rabastan and Hermione could see the glitter of concern in his grey eyes, "That pain potion she took will have worn off by now and she'll be feeling all the pain even more for withholding it for so long."

"You want another potion, love?" Rabastan asked her kindly, reaching for her hand and giving it a little squeeze.

"No," Hermione breathed, squeezing her own eyes closed, "I'll just… maybe I can sleep through the worst of it."

He nodded his head as he slid down under the covers beside her. Hermione bit her lip on another whimper when he shuffled himself over even further until he was pressed against her, his arm snaking beneath her neck and beneath Draco's where he spooned her. She felt the way he curled his arm around both of them and used it to pull them both closer to him.

"Get in, would you?" he grumbled at Regulus as he shuffled around, trying to get himself comfortable.

Hermione shuffled closer to him again until she was able to pillow her head in the hollow of his shoulder.

"Bass?" Malfoy muttered sleepily from behind her.

"It's me, Pup," Bass said and through semi-closed lids, Hermione watched the way Rabastan dragged a comforting hand through Draco's blonde hair gently.

"You're so screwed with these two," Regulus muttered, climbing in on Rabastan's far side and finding himself similarly dragged into Rabastan's side.

Hermione watched the way the other wizard allowed Rabastan to slide his hand under his neck and curl it around his back, pulling Regulus into his side until Regulus was peering at her from across Rabastan's chest, his head pillowed in the hollow of Rabastan's other shoulder.

"No I'm not," Rabastan argued with him, "Just shut your eyes and go to sleep, Reg."

"Does he boss you like this as well, Mina?" Regulus asked, rolling his eyes. Hermione felt his knee brush hers when he slid it across Rabastan's hips, effectively cuddling into Rabastan's side like he belonged there.

The idea amused her immensely and she wondered again just what kind of wizard Rabastan Lestrange was. Draco had somewhat explained how the dynamic between him and Bass worked, but it seemed that Regulus and Rabastan were also very close. Close enough that after almost fifteen years apart, they still wanted to spoon the very next time they saw one another.

"He tries," Hermione murmured sleepily, smiling softly in return and trying to drift back to sleep to avoid the worst of the pain currently wracking her body and making parts of her ache terribly.

"Tries?" Rabastan scoffed, turning his head and pressing a kiss to her forehead rather affectionately, as though the idea that he merely tried to boss her around rather than succeeding was something amusing and quaint.

"When I'm not suffering sleep-deprivation, immense blood-loss or the aftermath of being branded, Rabastan Lestrange," Hermione replied evenly, "You might find that I'm less than amenable to your will."

"Is that right?" he chuckled, seeming amused when she accompanied the statement with a soft kiss pressed to his collarbone, softening the impertinence slightly and making sure he wouldn't take offense when she felt so vulnerable.

"Mmhmmm," Hermione hummed, letting her eyes drift closed again as slumber threatened to claim her.

"I look forward to seeing that, love," he murmured back to her, also sounding like he was well on the way towards sleep.

Hermione grinned in spite of herself and she felt asleep still wearing the amused expression.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Something sharp prodded the sole of her foot where it had come free of the blankets and Hermione's eyes snapped open with a start. She blinked blearily, trying to get her bearings as she found herself pressed intimately between three wizards, squeezed between the three of them on her enlarged bed in the bedroom Snape had given her. The light from outside the window seemed to have dimmed considerably, suggesting that they'd slept the afternoon away and that it was bordering on evening.

"Up," Severus Snape's cool voice demanded of her and Hermione snapped her gaze towards the end of the bed to see him standing there and eyeing her detachedly.

His face bore no expression whatsoever, though his eyes were fixed on her with something akin to annoyance and despite the lack of indicators in his demeanour, Hermione could tell he was immensely angry about something and trying not to show it. She wondered idly if he was annoyed to find her in bed with three wizards or if he was merely aggravated by the wretched turn their lives had taken as a result of the Order's success that morning when they'd taken their retribution for the death of so many innocents.

Glancing back at her companions, she discovered that Draco, Rabastan and Regulus were all still asleep, sprawled across her bed and snuggled into one another with her smack-dab in the middle of them. She was curled into Rabastan's side with Draco's arm thrown over her hip and holding her hand where she had rested it on Rabastan's bare chest. Regulus was curled into Rabastan's other side, similarly cuddled into the wizard but rather than having his hand resting on Rabastan, he'd thrown his arm over the wizard between them and was intimately resting it against her hip where her camisole top had ridden up slightly.

Blinking at Snape once more, Hermione frowned at him.

"I don't think I _can_ get up," she admitted rather than bothering with greeting him since he didn't look to be in any mood for small-talk or pleasantries. He looked kind of like he wanted to hex her, actually. Her and the three men she was spooning with.

"They'll be fine," he rolled his eyes, clearly thinking she meant she didn't want to disturb the three wizards in bed with her.

"I'm sure they will. But I don't think I can move. Everything hurts."

"Of course it does," he growled at her in annoyance, "You nearly got yourself bloody killed! Get. Out. Of. The bed!"

He enunciated each word in that silken, furious way of his and Hermione realised that pain or not, she was going to have to move her arse of he was likely to hex her and probably the wizards in bed with her too. Indeed, if she didn't, he was very likely to make her regret inconveniencing him with her pain and costing him his precious time in doing so. He looked like he would very much enjoy having a scapegoat to take his anger and frustration out on just then, and Hermione suspected she was likely to bear the brunt of his foul mood.

"Leave off, Sev," Draco grumbled, surprising her when he showed he was awake and lifting his arm when Hermione began to wriggle.

"Go back to sleep, Draco. Or get up and go home," Snape retorted coldly, clearly in no mood for his godson's cheek, "Mina. Up. Now!"

"I'm trying," Hermione whined, hissing between her teeth when she managed to roll herself around – with Draco's assistance – until she was sitting up in the bed.

It hurt like fuck.

Nothing had ever hurt so much, and she had endured the Cruciatus curse at the hands of the most powerful Dark wizard or all time. Her bottom felt like it was on fire and she was seriously regretting having let Draco and Rabastan have their wicked way with her. It hurt so much that tears gathered in her eyes as she stared at Snape, trying to keep the scream of agony inside her chest.

Snape sighed heavily as though she were the biggest inconvenience he'd ever had the misfortune of encountering before he put both of his knees on the end of the bed, leaned over and scooped her up as though she were just a toddler. He swept his hands beneath her arms and lifted her until she was able to kneel on the bed before adjusting his position, curling his hands around the back of her thighs and lifting her right out of the bed.

"Argh," Hermione whimpered, the tears overflowing her eyes at the excruciating pain that rocked through her. Agony. She was in agony.

"Mina?" Draco asked, his voice still thick with sleep but worry evident in his tone as he attempted to sit up when he heard the sound of her distress.

"What the fuck did you do to her, Draco?" Snape hissed when Hermione curled her arms around his neck and buried her teeth into the top of his shoulder as she'd done when she'd woken with her Dark Mark. She bit him through the fabric as she tried to hold in her scream. Not that it helped much when the sound of her pain escaped her just the same as Snape jostled her slightly trying to climb back off the bed with her clinging to his chest like a small child instead of a grown witch.

"Nothing," Draco said sheepishly, "I mean… we fucked her."

"Since the battle?" Snape asked, outraged and Hermione sensed that if that were the case, he might kill the pair of them for their audacity and their inconsiderateness.

"No, before. Me and Bass," Draco clarified, "It's why we were late. We were… uh… in the middle of… you know… when the Dark Lord summoned us and um… Bass didn't think it wise to stop right then."

"You both fucked her at the same time?" Snape asked, his voice tight with fury now.

"Well, yeah," Draco admitted.

"Did you give her the pain potion before or after plugging her up?" Snape ascertained, his language foul and his tone icy as though he'd very much enjoy murdering the pair of them for what they'd done to her, no matter Draco's answer.

"After. She didn't want it before in case we tore something or damaged her and she couldn't feel it," Draco explained

"At least she has some fucking sense then," Snape hissed venomously, "Did she not tell you she'd never done something like that before? That she ought to have been eased into it and properly prepared for such treatment? Did you learn nothing from your own experience at having a cock jammed in your arse that without being used to it, the ring of muscle can tear? Of all the ridiculous, insensitive, selfish, disgusting fucking things you could do, this is how you treat her? And you idiots expect me to just sign off on the idea of you both petitioning the Dark Lord to wed her? You'll be fucking lucky if I don't skin you alive, you useless fucking cunts!"

He shuffled himself backwards off the end of the bed until he was able to stand again while he spoke, berating Draco foully and devolving to swear at his godson repeatedly for being an inconsiderate, selfish, dim-witted arsehole. His hands were still curled under Hermione's bare legs and holding her as though she were a child propped on his hip, rather than a grown adult.

"Can you stand, Mina?" he asked, his lips by her ear and turning softer and more considerate, kinder than the tone he'd used to dress-down Draco for his behaviour.

Hermione nodded, unable to open her mouth lest she scream or bite him again. Tears were trickling down her cheeks against her wishes, her body hurt so much. The most pain radiated from the wound on her chest where the Sectumsempra had struck her, but her bottom didn't feel good either. Indeed, most of her felt abused. Every muscle had been pulled.

" _Hermione? Are you alright? I can feel that you're in pain?"_ Remus's voice intruded inside her head suddenly and Hermione whimpered, more tears escaping her eyes at the concern colouring his tone.

 _"I'm fine Remus, my pain-numbing potion wore off and the full effects of Sectumsempra have kicked in, along with the effects of three rounds of hardcore, group sex and a reverse Cruciatus curse that inspires pleasure when cast. It overstimulates the nerves and leaves them raw afterwards. I'll be fine, don't worry about me. Snape is currently seeing to me,"_ Hermione thought back to the werewolf inside her head, focusing her magic on the ability to communicate with him and finding it helped to distance her from the pain slightly.

She employed the use of Occlumency then, compartmentalising the pain and refusing to let it control her when she had more important things to be seeing to.

She could still feel Remus connected to her inside her head though he didn't communicate further. She couldn't describe how she knew he was there other than to say it felt like being on the phone with someone one the other end, breathing but not speaking. Indeed, it felt almost like he were right there in the room with her, silently watching her and offering her what little comfort there was to be had in simply knowing she wasn't alone and that he cared.

"I'm going to put you down now," Snape warned her carefully in her present reality, lowering her as he spoke until Hermione felt her feet brush the floor. Her knees almost buckled, but her grip on the back of his neck let her keep her balance until some of the worst agony subsided.

"I'm alright," Hermione said several deep breaths later sending the same telepathic assurance to Remus. She briefly felt the earthy grounding magic that was uniquely him run along the length of her own magic, flaring within her and somehow taking away some of the pain before he departed like a line clicking off.

"You're not alright, you needed more Blood Replenishment potions before going to bed and you needed to be able to rest properly so your body would heal. Something that is impossible when crammed in between a trio of bloody idiots," Snape levelled a glare at Draco, Rabastan and Regulus over Hermione's shoulder.

"I'll be fine," Hermione insisted, trying to be brave. She didn't know what Remus had done to take some of the pain from her, but she did feel mildly better after feeling his magic race along hers that way.

She flinched when Snape's hand came up and gripped her chin tightly, tilting her head back and forcing her to meet his gaze. He looked at her without pity despite the tears that had leaked from her eyes and still clung to her lashes. Hermione bit her bottom lip hard enough that she cracked the split in it, fighting the whimper that wanted to leave her; resisting the urge she had to break down in his arms and cry for her mother again. She refused to be that weak again. She refused to allow herself to be so vulnerable when she knew he expected more of her. When she knew he needed her to be better than her pain and her self-pity.

"Who did this to you face?" he demanded coldly, his fingers ghosting over the side of her face where Fred had punched her.

"One of the Order," Hermione whispered, realising his eyes were lingering on the part of her face that throbbed dully. Her black eye, she imagined, from where Fred had punched her like she'd asked him to. He looked angry about it as he eyed it, the tips of his fingers moving so lightly she almost couldn't feel them at all.

"Cunts," he snarled, before peeling her arms from around his neck and beginning to fish phials out of his pockets. He uncorked each one in turn and handed it to her. Hermione accepted each potion without a word as he gave them to her, tipping each one to her lips and drinking it down. She didn't question why she had to take them. She didn't demand to know what was in them and she refused to allow herself to shudder or make faces at the flavour of some of them, no matter how foul they might taste.

She recognised most of them from her own knowledge of potions and from having taken some of the others before. She also recognised that he was giving her everything he'd given her before in addition to several healing potions, flooding her system with them to make up for the fact that her blood loss meant she might not be protected or effected by some of those she'd taken the night he'd captured her.

First he started with two more doses of Blood Replenishment potion. Next he gave her a mild pain-relief potion, followed by a Pepper-Up potion. When she'd drank them all he handed her another round of potions, these ones some she'd tried before. First was the contraceptive potion he'd given her days ago. Then the hormone supplement. Then the one to protect against disease. One and on it went. The Potion that altered her appearance followed by the one to alter her personal scent.

He poured potion after potion into her, all without saying a word and Hermione drank them all down. She didn't complain. It made sense that she would need to take them all again. She'd lost a lot of blood thanks to the Sectumsempra curse she'd endured and much of the medicine she'd taken days ago could have bled right back out of her body. As such she needed to take them again.

Almost immediately Hermione felt them filling her stomach, working their way through her body to where they were needed in order to be effective.

"How many things are you giving her?" Rabastan wanted to know and Hermione glanced at him over her shoulder to find him reclining against her pillows. He's slid up the bed a bit and Regulus still had his head pillowed against Rabastan's shoulder, though he was sitting up a bit too, Bass's arm around him causally. Draco was sitting up as well, his arms folded across his chest. He was siting close to Rabastan as well, though no quite as close as Regulus.

Indeed, he looked annoyed and defensive about Regulus being there at all. Hermione might've found it amusing if not for the fact that she was too sore and currently too tired to care one way or the other how Draco felt about Regulus or vice versa. They would have to get used to one another. She didn't imagine Rabastan would let Regulus out of his sight for a long while if they'd truly been friends and if Regulus could survive his oncoming interrogation.

Moreover, she didn't imagine Regulus was going to let the irate werewolf shove him out of her life. He seemed intent on ensuring she was safe and continuing to be in her presence, no matter the protests he made on the matter for the sake of his own role at fooling the Dark Lord and his faithful followers. Draco was going to have to get used to him, though it might take some time and a good deal of arguing. She didn't imagine the feline animagus and the werewolf would ever be overly fond of one another. It wasn't in their nature. At least, not in their animal nature. As wizards they might learn to get along well enough, with the right persuasion or blackmail on her part.

"Enough to get the job done," Snape sneered in retort to Rabastan's question, handing Hermione a final potion.

Hermione took it from him and held it up to the light. She'd recognised all of the others, but this one was foreign to her. When she raised one eyebrow at Snape, he stared drolly back at her.

"Drink it," he commanded and Hermione pinched her brows together to let him know she didn't appreciate his attitude before doing as she was told.

When she was finished she handed the phial back to him.

"Come," he commanded, turning on his heel with a billow of his robes and stomping out of the room like the giant bat he was so often referred to at Hogwarts, swooping from their presence almost silently.

"Should I dress first?" Hermione wanted to know, calling after him.

"No," he replied, "Those idiots will be gone before I permit you to return to your room too."

"He wants to examine you again," Regulus told her seriously from the bed when Hermione glanced at them to see the three of them looking rather affronted by Snape's attitude.

Shrugging her shoulders and wincing at the pain it caused her, Hermione didn't bother answering the three wizards still in her bed regarding their opinions on where Snape wanted her to go and why it might mean she didn't require additional clothing to her camisole and her knickers. Instead she stomped out of the bedroom behind Snape, noting that he used wandless magic to close the door with a snap in her wake. She followed him as he led her down a hallway and up another flight of stairs she hadn't realised were there before realising he was leading her into his bedroom.

She opened her mouth to ask him what was going on but he held his fingers to his own lips in a shushing gesture before waving his wand to begin warding the room so they wouldn't be overheard or interrupted. She didn't doubt he'd done something to her room too, something that would ensure the wizards inside it would leave the house before she could return. She got the feeling Snape was angry enough that he didn't care about offending them, giving them the wrong impression or outright hurting them if they didn't leave her room.

"Where does it hurt most?" he wanted to know when he was done, turning to her and scowling down at her fiercely.

"Where do you think?" Hermione asked him, rolling her eyes.

"I would like to believe that it's your stomach from encountering Sectumsempra," he replied, though he didn't look like he had much faith in the idea.

"Guess again," Hermione replied, sighing heavily, "Though it does hurt like hell."

"Strip," Snape demanded, his scowl deepening even more as though the news annoyed him.

"Seriously? With them in the house?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows at him and pointing towards the floor.

"You were naked earlier in front of me with them in the house. Them and the rest of the injured Death Eaters," he reminded her, "And Regulus was right, I mean to examine you. All of you. They don't need to see it, but they will undoubtedly believe that is what I am doing. Especially after what you let them do to you."

"Yes, but I wasn't in your bedroom then, was I? I was in your lab, being examined and healed of my life-threatening injuries."

"Mina," he warned, his eyes narrowing on her dangerously.

Hermione returned the expression before huffing and peeling her camisole top off over her head. She flicked her knickers from her hips until the puddled at her feet as well, baring herself to his clinical and rather cold gaze before propping her hands on her hips.

"Did the painkiller help at all?" he asked, circling her carefully and using his wand to continue healing the gash on her stomach until nothing but a shiny pink scar remained. And even that was fading before her eyes.

"A bit. The Pepper-up potion helped too," Hermione nodded her head, watching him work as he moved around her.

"Who punched you?" he wanted to know, stopping in front of her when he was done, his finger coming up to smooth over her bruised cheek carefully.

"Fred," Hermione admitted, "I asked him to hit me to make it look like I'd been battling and getting in the thick of things. He didn't want to do it, but I threatened him. He swung at me while casting a Bombarda and blasting me across the room."

Snape's jaw ticked but he stayed silent. Hermione held perfectly still as he fished more bruise salve from his pockets and smeared it over the entire area so carefully and so delicately that Hermione almost wanted to cry again. When he was finished, he circled around her once more and lifted her hair from the back of her neck.

"Has Remus made contact with you yet?" he asked, his fingers tracing the bite-mark on the back of her neck, also smearing salve over the wound carefully.

"Yes," Hermione admitted, "I had no idea werewolves could communicate telepathically."

"It only works on you and I because of the potion that prevents us from contracting Lycanthropy," Snape explained, "Without it, a bite like this would probably have killed you."

"He said you've got one too."

"Yes. You were supposed to get yours when I sent you to the Order yesterday, but I'm told you ran out before Remus could give it to you," Snape replied.

"I didn't belong there anymore," Hermione told him stoically ignoring his judgemental tone, and choosing to change the subject when she saw his expression. "What happens now?"

"Now things go to hell in a handbasket," Snape told her dryly, "Spread your legs."

"What? Why?" Hermione asked, peering at him over her shoulder and finding he'd squatted behind her.

"Just do it, Miss Granger," he snapped, clearly cranky.

Hermione complied.

"You realise Draco will be able to smell whatever you do to me, right?" Hermione asked nervously as she spread her legs wider and felt his hands smoothing over the cheeks of her bottom carefully.

"Did he smell that Remus had bitten you?" Snape wanted to know, prying her cheeks apart carefully and making her feel rather uncomfortable. It had been one thing to have his fingers and his cock in there. It was entirely another to have him squatting like that, eye to eye, as it were, with the most private part of her. It was all the more unnerving thanks to her current discomfort too.

"Yes. What are you doing, Snape? Please don't touch there. It hurts like hell," Hermione whispered, clenching her eyes closed when he pried her cheeks even further apart before touching her very gently.

"Of course it hurts, you blithering idiot. You let two men simultaneously penetrate each orifice without proper training and without preparing your body to be used this way. What did you think would happen?" he snapped, and Hermione hissed between her teeth when she felt him used the tip of his finger – clearly covered in some kind of healing salve – to probe her rectum gently.

"Fuck!" Hermione growled, trying to dance away from him.

"If you keep squirming, I'm going to make you bend over and touch your toes while I do this to you," he warned her, his hand clamping down on her thigh tight enough to bruise. Hermione hated him all the more for the fact that throughout the entire thing he continued to sound entirely clinical and not at all like he was uncomfortable or like the moment even could be sexualised, let alone that he were thinking of her in such a manner.

"Well, it hurts!" Hermione protested, "Why couldn't I have done that? My fingers are smaller than yours and would have hurt less going in!"

"You can't see it and don't know where needs the most attention. You also can't contort yourself around far enough to try without damaging your already injured midsection," he retorted coolly as he continued applying the salve both in and around the tight ring of her arse as though it were as natural to him as breathing and as though they'd never been teacher and student.

Hermione sighed in annoyance with him, clamping down on her embarrassment and reminding herself that she was being silly when he was clearly just trying to help her, not matter how unrelenting he was in providing that assistance and how unsettling the entire thing really ought to have been. She found it all the more irksome that though she was rather uncomfortable, it had little to do with who he was and entirely to do with her social conditioning that said one person ought not be fingering the rectum of another even for healing purposes whilst in such a causal setting.

"Why did you let them both have you so soon?" he asked her quietly when he was finished

"I didn't have much of a bloody choice, did I?" Hermione snapped, losing her temper, "I fucked Draco in his room and then Bass turned up in the middle of the night after you broke his mental barriers and he couldn't keep human form on his own without some help."

"You discovered his secret then?"

"That he's an animagus? Yes. He told me. A wolverine," Hermione replied, "When things were under control and he wasn't likely to transform and hurt himself or me, they were both horny and I couldn't really say no, could I?"

"Couldn't?" Snape asked, his voice turning to steel.

"They didn't force me, relax," Hermione sighed, twisting slightly when he stood once more, clearly done healing her bottom for the time being, "But I couldn't say no without looking like the frigid little girl I am, could I? So I ended up being spit-roasted by them since my arse was still sore from what _you_ did to it. Not that I told _them_ that at the time."

"And yet you've been fucked in the arse again since what I did to you," he commented dryly, his eyes assessing her face throughout the discussion as though searching for signs that the crass conversation or his foul language might be bothering her. "Who did the honours?"

"Draco," Hermione replied, narrowing her eyes at him for his rather flippant and nosey question, "And don't say it like that. I was showering and Rabastan invaded."

"He used his Pleasure spell on you, didn't he?" Snape asked, his eyes flashing as he moved until he stood in front of her.

"You know about it?"

"He is rather famous for it, particularly for the fact that he refuses to tell anyone exactly how he does it or what the incantation is," Snape nodded, "It's also why you are in such agony now. Much like the Cruciatus curse, which that spell was born from, it works by tormenting the nerve-endings and stimulating them to pleasure rather than pain. I achieved the same thing with a potion to act upon the nerves safely. His version stimulates them to creature the pleasure, rather than tricking the brain into think pain is pleasure."

"It overworks the senses in general," Hermione nodded slowly, "He used it on me while they were both… you know… since we were kind of in the middle of things when the Dark Lord started summoning everyone."

"And they didn't want to stop," Snape curled his lip away from his teeth in annoyance.

"To be honest, I didn't either, at that point," Hermine admitted, her cheeks turning pink at the admission and her brazen statement that she'd enjoyed what they'd done to her at the time, even if the aftermath did make it seem like it wasn't worth it.

"You won't be saying that when the Dark Lord tortures the three of you for being late," Snape retorted, "When you are summoned you must always arrive as promptly as possible or you will be punished. He will punish the three of you for wasting time and ignoring his call for something as trivial and inconsequential as your own pleasure."

"Will he remember to when he has bigger things on his mind like the fact that his Horcruxes are being destroyed?" Hermione wanted to know, tilting her head to one side and refusing to care that she was standing in Snape's bedroom, stark naked, whilst having a rather unsettling discussion with him regarding their enemy and his plans to torture her for her mistake.

"Not right away," Snape replied eyeing her coolly, "But someone will undoubtedly remind him at a later date to ensure the three of you are sufficiently punished. Never forget that in this nest of vipers, everyone is out for themselves. Everyone. Rodolphus. Bellatrix. Lucius. Rabastan. Draco. Regulus. Me. Even you. We all have our own agendas and if we can elevate our status by killing off or implicating someone else, we will all do so. You must be cut-throat if you want to survive, Mina. Someone will remind the Dark Lord that you, Draco and Rabastan were late to the battle and had to be summoned several times. He _will_ punish you."

Hermione nodded her head, accepting her fate, even though she didn't like it. The only way around it would be to see someone else injured, maimed or killed in her stead. Though if it was another Death Eater, she doubted she would mind very much. She might've learned that they were just people raised with bad ideals and addicted to the seduction and pleasure that could be found in breaking the law, pushing the boundaries of right and wrong and wallowing in the depravity of Dark magic. But that didn't mean she hadn't already begun thinking that it was still an instance of her or them. And she was more important, as far as she was concerned.

"Sit on the end of the bed," Snape commanded of her then, as though he could read her thoughts and perhaps as though he were the tiniest bit proud of her stoic acceptance of her fate unless she could find some way around it. Hermione glanced up at the Potions Master before her, realising she was still naked and that his dark gaze was trailing over the length of her naked form in a manner that made her aching body tingle slightly. He still seemed clinical, but also appreciative.

She didn't bother arguing or trying to figure out why he was asking her to do it. She knew he wouldn't tell her. He would simply do whatever he had planned once she'd done as she was told. Complying calming, Hermione walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down upon in. She squeaked when he stalked over in front of her, knelt down and pried her thighs apart. He pulled her right to the edge of the bed until she had to grip his shoulders to keep from falling.

"I really don't need to be examined this way," Hermione told him seriously as he began muttering charms and healing her body carefully, "That part of me is getting rather used to being brutalised and isn't very sore. It's just my bum that hurts."

"I don't have time to force you into a bathtub to soak with Epsom salts and other healing potions to keep you from doing any permanent damage to yourself. But I will _not_ make a habit of healing you this way, Miss Granger," he warned her without looking up.

He knelt before her, still dressed in his Death Eater robes and it occurred to her as she watched him that though she'd been momentously terrified when Draco and Rabastan had been wearing their robes, the sight of Snape in his didn't scare her. Oh, he terrified her in other ways that were far more unsettling, but it had nothing to do with his attire. Perhaps it was the fact that robes or not, he always looked just as intimidating, just as cold and calculating. Maybe it was the fact that he always wore billowing black robes that better hid his identity and protected him, warning others away from him without saying a word.

Hermione squirmed when he poked the end of his wand into her silken passage, healing her internally as well. She hated herself a little bit that despite the pain she was in – which was fading thanks to his healing skill – she still felt her breath hitch at the attentions. Something she regretted immediately when he suddenly lifted his dark eyes to her face and narrowed them at her.

"You are still reacting without permission," he pointed out unkindly, clearly hearing the change in her breathing.

"I've been forced to do nothing but feel every pleasurable thing done to me in the past twenty-four hours," Hermione replied in annoyance, "It might have escaped your notice, but I'm still new at this. I can't be expected to remain entirely unaffected every time someone goes poking things in my vagina and stimulating it again before it's had a chance to recover after its last ravaging."

"New at it, yes, and yet now worldlier than most when it comes to positions and partners at one time," he replied, his eyes still on her face as he continued healing her despite the way her body reacted to the stimulation.

"That's not really the point, though, is it?" Hermione replied, her annoyance growing, "You were the one who insisted I feel nothing and then changed your mind and suggested I find out how sex feels good before trying to learn to control my reactions. You robbed me of my ability to keep from remaining unfeeling. And I've yet to regain my equilibrium as a result."

He smirked at her from where he knelt between her legs at the end of his bed. Hermione kind of hated herself for the fact that the sight of the expression on his less-than-handsome face still turned her on. What was wrong with her that despite the pain she still suffered, in no small part thanks to having too much sex, she was considering the idea of giving it another go?

"They robbed you of it at well," he said, assessing her with his eyes as her breath came in little pants and gasps when he stopped healing her and simply used his wand to repeatedly impale her, stimulating her and making it hard to think straight, "Meaning you need more practice."

"Considering how sore I am I won't be…. Ungh," Hermione trailed off with a groan when he removed his wand from her person, leaned into her and sucked her clit into his mouth.

He chuckled darkly at her reaction.

"What are you doing?" Hermione gasped, her hands moving to his hair and tangling in the greasy black strands to hold him to her, despite the fact that her aching body wasn't at all sure she could take anymore.

"You need practice at not reacting," he reminded her, wickedly amused now and seeming to squash down some of his foul mood in favour of educating her, "So I'm going to work you over and you're going to pretend I'm not touching you. Tell me everything you've learned about your targets in your time at Malfoy Manor with them."

Hermione could barely think beyond the feel of him eating her out. He dipped his tongue inside her hungrily, licking, nipping, suckling.

"I… I've…" Hermione tried to articulate, trying to follow his instructions.

"Focus, Mina," he warned her, "Or I'll start using my fingers in conjunction with my tongue."

Hermione had to squeeze her eyes closed tight to keep from groaning again or from begging him to do just that.

"I've learned that Draco will be easier to win over than I thought he would be," Hermione said, her eyes still closed even as she flopped back on the bed in the hopes that not being able to see what he was doing to her might help her to focus.

"I also discovered that he and Rabastan have some kind of deal pertaining to me. They seem more than willing to share me, both sexually and maritally, but I think there might be more to it. Draco got squirrelly when I asked what the deal was between him and Bass. I was referring to the fact that they're comfortable enough to have threesomes with me and to be snogging one another during those threesomes."

Hermione was aware that she sounded breathless as Snape's tongue continued to work between her legs, lapping at her with as much fervour as Draco had done.

"I discovered that Rabastan is an animagus and trusts Draco with his secrets when he loses control and almost shifts when he doesn't want to. I also overhead him tell Regulus that he means to marry me and Draco together, and when Regulus told him it was a bad idea and said we were just kids, he told him not to talk about us that way. They must have been friends before Regulus disappeared from the way they were so close and the way they snuggled together."

"What else?" Snape wanted to know, inserting one finger inside her slick heat when Hermione moaned softly at the torment.

"They were both willing to defy the Dark Lord's summons until after we'd all come," Hermione whimpered, trying to think about anything other than his finger working inside her and his mouth suckling on her clit.

"And?" he prompted.

"That's all," Hermione admitted, "The rest of the time was spent eating, fucking and sleeping. Oh, God. You're killing me."

"You're supposed to be pretending I'm not touching you," he reminded her.

"Draco's going to smell me all over you," Hermione retorted.

"All three of them are locked in your room with no way out but to apparate outside of the premises," he disagreed, adding another finger to her aching pussy, "If they want to get out, they have to leave and won't be able to get back in."

"Weren't you grumbling a little while ago that I needed rest, not more sex?" Hermione asked, her fists clenched in the bedspread so tightly it was a wonder it didn't tear.

"You do," he agreed, "But that will have to come later, The Dark Lord will soon be finished checking on all of his horcruxes and then we will all be at his mercy. Remus has confirmed the locket and the diadem have both been destroyed. Only the cup, Nagini and Potter himself remain. The Dark Lord will not take this attack lightly and you must be prepared for all you will endure."

"Wouldn't it be more prudent, then, for me to be as well rested as possible?" Hermione asked, "I expect he means to use Legilimency on all of his followers?"

"On some," he nodded, still licking her out, "He is not strong enough anymore to use it for prolonged periods and he will most likely ask his most trusted followers to do most of the dirty work."

"Meaning you?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Meaning me. And Rabastan. Bella is too unstable and Rodolphus does not have the skill. The Dark Lord will rely heavily on Rabastan and me to dig deep into the psyche of each of his followers. Your recent appearance in our midst buys you some suspicion," he told her, his fingers stroking her now and pushing her towards orgasm while he spoke in that sinful voice, "As you are masquerading as my daughter, and my testament of your loyalties would not suffice without continued doubt, you will be examined by Rabastan and you need to be ready to repel him. Allow him to see only those things that are important. If he learns your true identity or discovers you mission among the Death Eaters, he will kill you."

Hermione nodded her head. She didn't' doubt that.

"Won't my loyalty still be doubted when he has made it clear that he means to wed me?" she asked.

"No. That will lend the notion of your innocence some credibility. He is not currently courting you and when he does, it will be all the more proof that you must be loyal to the Dark Lord because Rabastan is loyal to him."

"How… how does… Regulus… fit into the equation?" Hermione asked, her head tossing from side to side now as she tried to ignore the fire dancing through her blood.

"He would not be deterred from leaving the Order and joining you undercover," Snape growled, working his fingers inside her more viciously, "He is a problem and he will be trouble. But we have no choice but to handle him."

"You're not going to make me marry him too, are you?" Hermione asked, lifting her head to meet his dark gaze.

"No. He will be married off to someone else. A pureblood. Someone of great value to the Dark Lord, most likely. Much of the Order's plan will be revealed by his presence amongst us and his knowledge of them. However you will not marry him, though knowing his friendship with Rabastan, I imagine you'll end up fucking him too."

"He … he was my…" Hermione tried to say but before she could get the word out, the orgasm she'd felt building like a tidal wave suddenly crested and crashed over her, "Heh!"

Snape's fingers slowed inside her but didn't entirely stop as the orgasm rushed through her.

"He's right, you know?" Snape murmured, standing once more until he was leaning over her where she was sprawled on the end of the bed.

"Who?" Hermione huffed, her eyes closed as contentment and a wave of exhaustion swept over her.

"Rabastan. He's right," Snape told her, "You are beautiful when you do that."

Hermione blinked her eyes open to find his face hovering over hers, his eyes fixed upon her own carefully.

"You've been in my head this whole time?" Hermione asked, feeling a sense of failure begin to fill her up.

"And you didn't even notice. You _have_ to be more careful. Rabastan is as stealthy at invading minds as I am. He could've been in your mind any time while you've been in his presence," Snape told her.

"I think he was when I was in the shower with him this morning," Hermione admitted.

"He harbours no will to murder you or expose you yet, so I assume that if he was, he didn't discover anything vitally important," Snape replied.

Hermione nodded, biting her lip and trying to think through the haze of contentment surrounding her. Snape withdrew his fingers from her pussy slowly, leaning his weight on both hands as he loomed over her. In the past the idea of being so cornered by him might've made her uncomfortable, but now Hermione found she rather liked having him so close to her.

She could also feel something hot and hard inside his robes, pressing against her and making her realise that he'd meant it. He clearly liked watching her orgasm. Smirking just a little bit at him, Hermione reached for his belt carefully. She kept her eyes on his face to gauge his reaction as she unbuckled his belt and unfastened his trousers.

"When we are summoned once more," he told her quietly, making no move to stop her from disrobing him, intent on seducing him, "You would do well to ensure your mental shields are up and that they will hold. The Dark Lord will be in a vile mood when he returns and all of the Death Eaters will suffer tonight."

"How badly?" Hermione whispered, feeling slightly fearful of the notion even as she peeled his trousers and his boxers down enough to free his cock from their confines.

"Worse than I have ever seen, I expect," he replied, continuing to hold her gaze when Hermione took him in hand and began to smooth her hands up and down the steely length of him the way he'd showed her.

"Worse than the Cruciatus curse?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, "Many people will die tonight. Every prisoner we are holding will likely be murdered. He might even desiccate a number of villages or the entire Ministry. When he learns the full extent of the Order's victory for today, he will be more furious than I have seen him be. It will hurt, Hermione."

Hermione closed her eyes at the sound of her real name coming out of his mouth even while she jerked him off slowly.

"More than being branded?"

"Yes," he replied, "The things you will see tonight will be beyond reprehension or even full comprehension. Vile things. Things no one should ever see."

"I'll be alright," Hermione promised, her eyes still closed as she used her grip on his cock to pull him closer, guiding him to her slick heat which throbbed now with the urge to be filled up once more.

"You will not be allowed to react, Mina. You must look on in stoic silence. Even if they torture me. As I must do if they torture you. Many people will die."

"That's what war is, Professor," Hermione whispered opening her eyes as he slowly pushed inside her, mindful that she was still tender though the number of healing potions and treatment's he'd given her had done wonders, "War is innocent people who don't deserve it, suffering. War is good men dying. And we are at war."

He pushed all the way inside of her until he was fully sheathed before withdrawing all the way back out again.

"We are at war," he agreed, closing his own eyes before he gave himself over to the feeling of shagging her.

Hermione arched into every thrust, her hands pressing him closer, pulling at him, feeling the strangest urge to make him as much a part of her as she could. She couldn't describe the strange emptiness she felt inside herself at his words. Today ought to have been a happy day.

Two horcruxes had been destroyed. The Order had won a great victory. Many Death Eaters were dead. The muggleborns in Azkaban had been rescued and the prison had been levelled to prevent its use again. Hogwarts had been closed to protect the students from Voldemort's terrible influence and keep innocents out of his reach.

Yet, as Snape plunged into her powerfully all Hermione could feel was despair and a terrible, creeping fear that built along with her oncoming orgasm, just waiting to crash over her and pull her under.


	22. Chapter 22: Interrogation

**A/N: You've all been so amazing, plying me with your love for this fic. I'm so sorry the updates haven't been as rapid as I promised. RL has been getting out of hand and I'm behind on my study, and I have a whole bunch of new plunnies featuring Thorfinn Rowle that won't leave me alone. I'll try to be better. I've got a few days off this week, so fingers crossed I can get a wriggle on with everything I owe chapters for. I was trying to keep a buffer on this, but right now this is the last complete pre-written chapter. Don't worry, I'll smash out some more. This baby isn't slipping away like so many of my other Plunnies try to. Another 12k word chapter here for you to enjoy. Much love! xx-Kitten**

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ANNOUNCEMENT: **Those of you who have been loving this darkness, and loving the Death Eaters, you simply must join our Death Eater related Facebook Group. I've teamed up with Canimal and Freya Ishtar and we've created a group called** _The Death Eater Express_. **Please come aboard for exclusive previews on upcoming chapters, exclusive new fic dicussion, character fancasts and an array of other fun things pertaining to Death Eaters.**

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 **WARNINGS: This chapter comes with a warning for mental torment, smut, slash and torture.**

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 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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 **Chapter 22: Interrogation**

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..." _You and I walk a fragile line, I have known it all this time,_

 _But I never thought I'd live to see it break._

 _It's getting dark and it's all too quiet and I can't trust anything now" ..._

 **Haunted (Taylor Swift)**

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"If you're ready?" Snape asked several hours later and Hermione looked up from where she sat on her bed in her room, reading the books he'd given her on Legilimency and Occulmency.

She was in the middle of a chapter that discussed the best ways to penetrate the mind without being noticed, claiming that while direct eye-contact was the most effective way to use Legilimency for interrogation, there were other ways to do so. She had just learned that using touch as a mean of entry into the mind, projecting one's own magic along the body or even the magical core of another, was the best way to practice Legilimency undetected.

"We've been summoned?" she asked, not having felt anything through her Dark Mark. The black skull and snake insignia upon her forearm had been oozing black poison most of the afternoon and Hermione wondered if that wasn't effecting the Mark as a means of communication. Snape had come up with a theory that it was a result of the potion designed to alter her appearance. As the potion was designed to smooth away and expunge imperfections, he theorised that having been given another dose mere hours ago, it stood to reason the potion might work on the brand the same way it did on all of marks and scars that blemished her flawless skin.

It removed them and since the Dark Mark couldn't be healed when so much black magic had been jammed into the area, the potion was forcing some of the poison right back out the way it had come in. Through her skin. It wasn't a promising discovery since Snape had informed her that it was likely to keep happening until such time that the Mark could settle into her flesh. The continued dosage of the potion every few months may also see the mark losing potency and potentially losing colour over time.

Something she had been assured would not be taken lightly. He was working on a way to alter the effect of the potion that would keep it from removing the Dark Mark. The problem was that the only current theory they'd settled on as a means to do so was to have it exclude expunging the effects of Dark magic on the drinker. Meaning that were she hit with another Sectumsempra or any other type of dark spell likely to scar her flesh, the potion would not remove the effects.

Hermione had pointed out that while she didn't much like the idea of possibly ending up disfigured, it didn't make sense to remove the scars anyway. All of her old scars from her life as Hermione Granger had been removed already. Any new ones she gained as Mina would be important because without them, people might notice that she was unnaturally able to completely heal from every injury. That might draw attention to what she was taking in general and the last thing they needed was anyone figuring out that she had another appearance without the potion in her system.

"Not yet," Snape shook his head at the idea of them being summoned by Voldemort, "But I have duties to attend to in the Dark Lord's absence. As you are masquerading as someone not currently able to legally apparate, you'll need to come along with me everywhere I go for the afternoon, though most of my business will be attended at Malfoy Manor and the Ministry. It is important that you begin interacting with the brethren outside of myself, Draco and Rabastan as well. You must be seen to integrate into the brethren, but do not allow yourself to become too closely involved with anyone outside of myself, Rabastan or Draco. Regulus, if you must. Everyone else must believe you are rubbing shoulders with them, but you must keep your distance from all of them for your own safety."

"Did you imagine I had an interest in the idea of actually befriending anyone among the Death Eater ranks?" Hermione asked in her best imitation of his dry sneer.

He smirked at her ever so faintly, a mere twitch of his lips towards amusement at her impersonation.

"I imagine you have little experience keeping your heart locked away inside a cage of ice, allowing people to believe you are their best friend whilst secretly plotting their demise," Snape replied just as dryly.

Hermione eyed Snape for a long moment at his tone, his expression and his words. He'd fucked her hard by the time they'd been through earlier. He'd started out slow and careful, mindful that she was still sore. He'd begun with the intention of teaching her the control she so sorely lacked when she'd been seduced and pleasure was pressed upon her. He'd demanded she recite a section of _Hogwarts, A History_ for almost fifteen minutes while he'd manipulated her body, tormenting her with his fingers, his lips, his tongue and his cock.

Surprisingly, thinking about the book, her eyes closed and her mind focused on the photographic image her memory pulled up of the section she was regurgitating, Hermione had been able to almost completely ignore his ministrations. He'd tested her constantly, all whilst fucking her. He'd attempted to penetrate her mind as she talked. He'd hissed cruel things about her friends, about her, about her ideals and even about her mother, trying to trigger some small crack in her mental shields. All whilst insisting she not express even the faintest hint that she was being bent over his desk and shagged.

When she'd proven she could keep him out of her mind and endure his attentions with only a few muttered expletives, some laboured breathing and one whined orgasm – which she'd masked well with a fake sneeze mid-sentence – Snape had slowly allowed the mood of their activity to change. It might have started out slow, careful, probing and testing her, but it had built rapidly to something else. Hermione couldn't even describe the way it had morphed from clinical and instructional to something poisonous and sinful.

He'd been rough with her by the end. Violent, even. If she was being honest, she might even say that he seemed to have used her as an outlet for his pent-up frustration over this turn of events. He'd gripped her body tight enough to leave finger-shaped bruises everywhere he clutched her so tight. He'd manipulated her body into positions to best outpour his own pent up rage and fury. He'd bent her over his desk-chair and pinned her to it, her face pressed unforgivingly into the cushion, his hand bruising on the back of her neck. His other hand had been gripping her uninjured hip so tightly that she had little crescent shaped scars from where his fingernails had bitten into her flesh.

He'd well and truly fucked her. He'd pounded into her mercilessly, letting his bubbling anger boil over, pouring free of himself and into her. He'd used her like she were the only channel to remove all traces of everything he was currently feeling. In fact, Hermione suspected that though he hadn't said a word about it, he'd used her to siphon his anger, his worry, his fear, his anguish and his disappointment through her until he was empty and devoid of such things.

She didn't doubt that he was at something of a crossroads in his life as a Death Eater now that he would be forced to be right in the thick of the brethren all the time, rather than being allowed to go off to Hogwarts as Headmaster with only a few lackeys in tow. More importantly, their situation was more perilous than ever. There would be no reprieve from the darkness now. They would both be stuck in the thick of the fighting, right in the heart of the Death Eater brethren, at the mercy of the Dark Lord and trapped amid the vile pit of vipers.

There would be no hiding away at Hogwarts, running the school and keeping out of the thick of things. There would be no opportunity to opt out of missions to terrorise muggles or hunt down mudbloods. There would be no excuse for not to going into battle against the Order, actively seeking them out and crushing them. And he had warned her that the Dark Lord would try harder than ever to crush them and to get to Harry now that he knew his Horcrux secret had been discovered and his immortality was threatened.

Hermione was more determined to marry Rabastan, enter the Lestrange vault and remove the Horcrux, but there was no guarantee that Voldemort would leave it there now that the others had been hidden. Indeed, she would need to find out from the Lestranges, somehow, if he did move it or if it would remain there. Hermione didn't imagine he would move it. She assumed that the Dark Lord would have told his three most loyal followers what the Cup actually was. They weren't likely to betray him by allowing anyone into their vault, so it stood to reason that the safest place left for the Horcrux was right where it was in their vault.

It also presented the problem that when – if – the time ever came that she would be able to enter the vault and steal it, there would be little doubt as to the culprit of the theft. Hermione would have to think long and hard about how best to steal the Cup without being caught and without having anyone know it was her. After all, only three people in the world had been granted entry to that vault. Rodolphus – who was unlikely to ever trust her at all, let alone want her entering his vault. Bellatrix – who would never want her entering the vault at all and would prefer to see her dead. And Rabastan – who might be persuaded to marry her and even grant her access to the vault, but who would easily realise that she was the one stealing the prized and sacred object they'd been entrusted with.

When it went missing, only four people would be on trial as the potential thieves. Bella loved the Dark Lord and was too loyal to him to ever consider betraying him. Hermione didn't know about the other two. The Lestrange brothers, Hermione had learned, had been prosecuted the same as Bella, for torturing Frank and Alice Longbottom into madness with the Cruciatus curse when attempting to discover what had become of Voldemort after he went to Godric's Hollow that Halloween.

As most people sentenced to life in Azkaban following Voldemort's first downfall hadn't, none of the three had been given a fair trial and only Bellatrix had been recorded as admitting her guilt for torturing the Longbottoms. Her three accomplices – Rodolphus, Rabastan and Barty Crouch Jnr. – had all been silent and refused to admit to any knowledge of the Longbottom's torture, despite all four of them having been arrested at the scene. Hermione knew for a fact that none of their wands had been tested for _Priori Incantatem_ to discover the spells they had all wielded.

Had they been just as guilty? Had Bella done the actual torturing while they were simply accessories to crimes of war? Were they as guilty as Bellatrix? Could they be swayed from Bella and from the Dark Lord?

Hermione didn't know, but she needed to find out.

She knew her own anguish and her rapidly increasing fear were to blame for the way she'd allowed Snape to brutalise her so completely. He'd fucked her as hard as he could. Indeed, she felt a bit like she'd been hit by a truck and then reversed over for good measure. He'd given her healing potions, bruise salve and another mild pain-relief potion to help with the aches in her body. She did feel rather lighter and a bit better than she'd done before fucking him though. Almost as though he'd been her channel for her residual fear for her friends over today's battle and her increasing terror over the horrors she knew were going to follow.

Snape seemed to recognise that things had just gotten a lot harder for both of them and for the cause to bring down the Death Eater ranks from inside. He's used her as an outlet for that rage, and Hermione found she didn't mind. She'd enjoyed it. That much was certain. But not merely on a sexual level, though she had certainly done that too if the screams he elicited from her were any indication. No, it had felt good to provide him some means to unleash some of the stress she didn't doubt he was suffering. He'd used her in ways she didn't even know one human being could use another. He'd even apologised to her when he was finished, lifting himself off her and peering down at her with contrition gleaming in those dark oceans he called eyes.

Hermione watched him now as he stood in the doorway to the bedroom he'd given her – his own childhood refuge from what she didn't doubt had been a rather wretched life. He no longer looked contrite, repentant or even concerned about how he'd used her, how he'd seemed to ooze his darkest emotions amid the throes of passion. That pleased Hermione all the more, though she didn't really know why other than that she felt like he'd given her some small part of himself. He'd allowed her to see him when he was vulnerable, expressing his emotions in a violent yet effective outpouring when he didn't seem to trust anyone else with them. She couldn't rightly describe the intricate web they were weaving together, but she didn't want to stop it.

If she could get through to him this way, if she could reach him and somehow allow him even the slightest reprieve in his dark and lonely life, she would do so. If she could somehow sway him from his current intent not to survive this war just as soon as the Dark Lord was vanquished, she would be overjoyed.

She didn't want to change who he was. She didn't want to make him into something he wasn't and she didn't want him to sacrifice his humanity as a result of all the vile and reprehensible things this mission forced him to do. But she did want to save him, nonetheless. He had a vital role to play in ending the war and if he sometimes needed to bend her over a chair and fuck her until the legs on the bloody thing snapped, she was happy to be of service. She didn't want to be used and abused, but she did want to offer Snape whatever reprieve from his dark and lonely path that she could. Hell, from the way her Bad wolf had howled with joy and revelled in the treatment, Hermione was say she was only too happy to help in any way he liked.

As Snape leaned in the doorway Hermione noticed that he was dressed in his Death Eater robes over the top of his regular clothing and his mask was dangling from one hand. His long black hair was damp from his recent shower, both of them having had to bathe off the effects of the battle and the scent of fucking one another lest Draco notice the smell. Hermione didn't at all fancy trying to explain to the werewolf just why it was that her pussy smelled like Snape's spunk or why his fingers, his face, his breath and his cock all smelled like her juices.

"Are those for me?" she asked, nodding her head at the spare robe and mask he had tucked under one arm rather than commenting on what he'd done to her in his bedroom.

"Yes. I should've given them to you sooner so that you'd have had them to wear today instead of borrowing Rabastan's," he admitted, glancing at the mask and the robes he held as though he had almost forgotten he was holding them.

"I hardly think my future husband minded sharing with me," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"No, but it was noted that I'd forgotten to pass your robes and mask along. It's something of a rite of passage to be presented with the uniform when one awakens bearing the Dark Mark," he drawled, "However, when you awoke we were… otherwise engaged… and it slipped my mind."

Hermione smirked, recalling that he'd been otherwise engaged trying to put her back together and then fucking her stupid in his shower until she'd literally passed out form the pleasure.

"Will you be punished?" Hermione asked him, setting aside her book and getting to her feet when she realised he was waiting for her to get herself together so they could be on their way.

"I doubt it, but I will be asked about it," he scowled, handing her the cloak and the mask when she reached him, "The Dark Lord – when he has time to focus on such things – will be most intrigued to find out why I didn't present you your hard-earned uniform with glee upon your awakening as a marked Death Eater."

Hermione donned the cloak quickly, shrugging into the inky black folds of the fabric and noticing that they had clearly been tailored just for her. Rabastan's has been much too big on her during the battle and Draco's had been too long in the sleeves when he'd wrapped her in his earlier to protect her modesty. Her own robe fit her petite frame perfectly.

When she accepted the mask, she noted that unlike the others she had seen that day, hers seemed to have been decorated specifically for her. Where the one Rabastan had given had been all black but for some silver rimming the eye holes, and Regulus's duplicate mask had been older, less shaped to the human visage and more animalistic in nature, her own was very different.

"Who designed this?" Hermione asked of the Potions Master as she clutched the mask in her hands.

It was shaped like a cat's face, the visage of a proud and fierce lioness. It even had ears. Long pointed cat's ears. The main colour of the mask was, predictably, black, however there with silver and bronze trimmings upon it. The ears were textured with striations of bronze from the inner corner like the fluff inside a cat's ears. The inner detailing distinguishing the shape and giving it a 3D appearance was silver. Across the top of the mask a fine segment of silver and bronze outlined the edge, giving the illusion of a forehead. In the middle of the forehead there was a diamond shape one in bronze with two prongs that surrounded it, curling inwards towards the points of the diamond before bowing out again, only to join at the dip of the nose. The eye holes were rimmed in silver much the way Hermione might've given herself cat's-eye make up, emphasising the shape of the eyes.

It jutted forwards to make space for her pert nose and the bottom of the mask was shaped like a cat's cheeks across her own cheeks and her top lip, perfectly following the pronounced bow of her lips. Her mouth and her chin were left uncovered. She imagined with it on she would look very much like a fierce lioness.

"Who do you think?" Snape rolled his eyes, "Who else know you are a lioness at heart? Though Regulus did make subtle changes to it when he saw it, making it appear less house-cat and more lion."

Hermione marvelled at the notion that even as a Death Eater, he wanted her to ensure she clung to her Gryffindor nature. She rather liked that. She had to be as cut-throat, cold and downright cruel as a lioness might be. She had to sink her fangs into the jugular of her prey and bring them down. But she had to keep a hold of her true nature while she did it.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered to him, fingering the shape of the mask carefully before stepping towards him, intent on hugging him for his thoughtfulness.

"Put the mask on before we apparate," he instructed, straightening and evading her hug quickly.

She hid her amusement at his obvious attempts to put distance between them once more after what he'd done to her upstairs.

"Are you sore?" he asked while she affixed the mask over her face carefully, aligning the eyeholes to her own eyes and securing the tie tightly around her head. She noticed that it clearly had some kind of charm on it to tie itself, affixing itself to her visage and staying in place even when she shook her head wildly to test its staying power and find out how easily it might fall off.

It didn't move at all unless she used her wand hand to reposition it. Hermione hid her amusement behind her mask at his question, fastening it over her face and tucked her hair under her hood.

"I'll live, Severus," Hermione assured him quietly, finding that she rather liked using his first name when she was alone with him and had been recently intimate with him. It felt more personal and she kind of liked the way he shuddered ever so slightly whenever she said it, as though the intimate and personal feeling of being addressed such made him feel more human, more involved with her somehow.

"That's not an answer," he replied, "Are you currently in any pain?"

"No more than I was before," Hermione shrugged.

"When you were biting me to keep from screaming in agony, you mean?" he sneered before handing her another Pepper-up Potion.

Hermione accepted it, moving her mask aside long enough to drink it down and feel the heated effects work through her aching muscles and improving the pain she'd been feeling immensely.

"Much better, thank you," Hermione said, setting the empty phial on her chest of drawers.

"I don't know how this evening will play out," he warned her, "But even if you are in any state to do so, do not allow yourself to engage in any more sexual acts today unless forced. And do not let Rabastan or Draco talk you into sleeping at the Manor again. Your task is to seduce them and have them both marry you, but you are not officially courting them yet and it will be frowned upon that you are so casually fucking them both and sleeping over."

"I'm expected to casually fuck whoever the Dark Lord wants me to fuck," Hermione reminded him.

"Yes, but you're not expected to sleep in their beds like you are already their wife," Snape reminded her, "And you need the rest of sleeping alone in your own bed where you won't be crawled all over by those two needy bastards. I also want you to drink this."

Hermione nodded her head in agreement before she spotted the potion he pulled from his pocket. She eyed it coolly, feeling her fear begin to grow when she realised what it was. He held it out to her in silence. Another of the potions used to confuse the pain receptors in her body and trick them into feeling pleasure instead.

"You think I will need it?" Hermione asked fearfully without taking it from his hand.

Snape stared back at her from behind his own mask – a gaunt looking mask of silver with intricate black swirls for decoration and black staples over the mouth between small holes for breathing. His eyes were hard and Hermione could tell at a glance that he didn't want to lie to her but that he also really didn't want to take her with him to Malfoy Manor.

"I think you will be destroyed without it," Snape told her quietly, his voice grim, "The things you will see, the things you will do and the things you will endure tonight will be beyond vile, Mina. We will all be tortured. Some of us will be asked to rape. Some of us will be asked to slaughter. Before this night is over, you will wish that at any time during your lifetime up until now, you had managed to die. Before this night ends, you will wish you had never been born."

Hermione shivered, her stomach twisting and heaving with fear as it raced down her spine and poisoned her limbs. He sounded so certain.

"And I must ask, throughout it all, that you remain as stoic and unfeeling as me. I must ask you to mask your disgust. To curb your hatred. To accept your punishment. To revel in your own pain and in the pain you will bring to others. This night will not be something you will ever be able to take back," his voice was steely as he spoke, but Hermione caught the way his fist was clenched tightly around his wand, "No amount of Dreamless Sleep Draught will save you from the nightmares you will gain this evening, Hermione. Nothing will undo the blackness that you will be asked to bathe in. The blood will never wash from your hands. This poison will stain your soul and blacken your heart until the day you die."

"A revel?" Hermione whispered fearfully, her aching body clenching at the very idea.

"Worse," he murmured, shaking his head, "Revels are an expression of happiness, lust and a celebration of youth and life and the vile depravity we all engage in through our lawlessness. Revels are about pushing the limits of the psyche to new heights of pleasure through sex, through the twisted perversions of forcing oneself on another, through the use of magic so seductive it takes root in your blood and you yearn for the next rush."

Hermione shuddered at the way he described them.

"Tonight will not be about our pleasure. We, as a brethren, will bear the brunt of the Dark Lord's rage over Potter's actions. He will torture and torment us like a cat plays with a mouse he means to devour. He will unleash his fury with us for not stopping the Order. For not seeing this coming. For not doing something to prevent it. And when he has pushed us all to the very brink of insanity and berserk rage, he will unleash us upon each other and upon the world. Many will die tonight, Mina. Some Death Eaters. Many innocents. By the end, you will undoubtedly beg me for another dose of this potion. When the physical pain becomes too much you might black out once again, as you did at your branding…. Pray that you don't. The things the brethren will do to your unconscious body will sicken and maim you. You must keep your wits enough to remain conscious and you must not give in to your fear."

Hermione gulped. His dire words struck fear into her heart and she realised suddenly why he'd fucked her so hard and why he'd been so angry and so scared, though he'd barely expressed either. He was terrified. There would be little he could do to protect her tonight from the rage they would endure and the pain they would suffer. There was even less he could do to protect himself.

"Will I be raped?" Hermione asked in a whisper.

"I doubt it, unless you lose consciousness," Snape shook his head slowly, "You will not be asked to fuck anyone as long as you are awake. Not tonight. It's not about pleasure. It's about anger and hate and wrath. The things the Dark Lord will do to us are beyond words."

Hermione felt tears well in her eyes before they spilled down her cheeks in her utter terror.

"Take the potion, Mina," Snape commanded of her sternly, refusing to let her display stand, before he added a very soft, almost begging, "Please."

Hermione took the phial from his hands, uncorked it and gulped down the vile potion quickly, shuddering at the wretched taste.

"Pull yourself together. You must not allow yourself to show your fear. Lock up you humanity. Cage your good wolf. Trap the Hermione Granger within you so deep inside a block of ice that none will ever find it. Your mind will be brutalised tonight as just surely as your body will. Nothing must get through. No hint of who you truly are must be allowed to be seen. Rabastan will search your mind and you must not give away the truth."

Hermione nodded her head slowly, squaring her shoulders and forcing her humanity deep down inside herself. Her bad wolf rushed to the surface willingly, overtaking her fear, feeding on it and growing in fury and in strength until her tears dried and her pain and fear began to fade. She had a role to play and she would play it properly.

She sighed heavily, "Are we going to discuss Regulus before we go?"

"You know perfectly well why I didn't tell you about him before now," Snape eyed her through his mask, watching her transformation in silence.

"I do," she nodded, "But there is still the fact that a grown man has been masquerading as my cat for four years! I think I may be traumatised. And he certainly must be. The things I did in front of him thinking he was a regular cat…."

Hermione shuddered and suddenly Snape began to laugh, startling her.

"I had forgotten that you actually believed he was just a cat," he chuckled darkly, entirely amused by the idea, "What's the worst thing you did in front of him, thinking him a mindless beast?"

"I used to cuddle Crookshanks while I went to the toilet," Hermione admitted, blushing crimson as Snape began to laugh even more, throwing his head back and positively roaring with glee over the notion.

Hermione didn't think it was at all funny, though she could see why he thought it to be hilarious. Snape surprised her when he stepped closer to her, still laughing, and wrapped his arm around her back. He pressed her too him in a hug – or as close to a hug as he seemed to get – before he disapparated them both with a crack.

He was still laughing when they landed inside Malfoy Manor.

A number of other Death Eaters were still there and they seemed extremely alarmed by the sight of a laughing Severus Snape appearing in their grim midst. In spite of herself, Hermione began to chuckle along with him as he continued to laugh as though she'd just told him the best joke of all time. Indeed, he laughed so much that he had to peel his mask off his face to wipe at the corner of his eyes when tears of utter hilarity escaped them.

He looked straight at her while he laughed, mask lifted and Hermione found as she watched him that she very much enjoyed his laugh. This wasn't some put-on or faked laugh for the sake of his role. This was just an expression of his complete amusement over what she'd just revealed to him and Hermione couldn't help but laugh along with him.

"Something funny, Severus?" Rodolphus Lestrange's voice asked from behind one of the masks, growling in barely restrained fury and Hermione could sense the palpable tension in the air around them as their laughter began to subside.

"Hilarious," Snape nodded, shooting a glance towards where Regulus was currently being interrogated by Rabastan, Bellatrix and Rodolphus before they'd arrived.

Hermione was surprised when Snape used his grip around her back to pull her close once more and dropped a kiss to the top of her head before he reined in his laughter and grew serious and deadly once more. She suspected that was the most unnerving thing about the dark wizard before her. He might have the alluringly dangerous voice; the less than swoon-worthy looks; the creepy, sullen, dangerous air about him and a ruthlessness that alarmed most. But the most impressive and singularly scary thing about Severus Snape was that he could go from being utterly amused to deadly in a second flat.

He could just switch off his humanity entirely, leaving nothing but a ruthless, cold, angry demon in its place, ready to devour, to torture, to destroy and to revel in the Darkness.

Before he jerked his mask over his face, Hermione could almost see his humanity and his amusement sinking into a glacial lake. Disappearing under the surface as though it had never been there at all. The amusement was gone. The laughter was gone. The glee she'd seen on his face was gone. In their place was a devoid, swirling black nothingness that seemed to suck the soul right out of him as though he were naught but an empty shell of a man. Deadly. Dangerous. Wicked. And willing to destroy anything that got in his way.

Hermione found herself subconsciously trying to mimic him. Stepping back out of his one-armed embrace, she closed herself off once more. Tranquilising her good wolf, she locked the Hermione part of herself away and left only Mina's wickedness and her Bad wolf in charge.

"What discoveries have been made about this traitor's loyalty?" Snape sneered, stalking closer to where Regulus was being interrogated.

He was bound to a chair in one corner of the room and Hermione noticed that in another section of the large and empty meeting hall several people were depositing the bodies of the fallen. Hermione counted them silently with her eyes. More continued to arrive, but before she looked away, Hermione had counted thirty-four dead Death Eaters.

"He's been telling the truth about being the familiar of the mudblood you killed," Rabastan shrugged in answer to Snape's question, oblivious to the dead across the room, "And he's more than willing to spill Order secrets."

"Something he ought not to continue doing until the Dark Lord returns," Snape nodded, " _Legilimens_!"

Hermione watched the way he dove into Regulus's mind viciously. So viciously that Regulus would've jerked right out of his chair if not for the way he'd been bound to it. Rabastan moved back as Snape went to work, taking up the space in front of Regulus and beginning his own interrogation and his own search of the man's mind.

Rabastan moved over to where Hermione had stopped a few meters away to watch the proceedings. Hermione smirked to herself ever so slightly before brushing her fingers over his. He glanced down at their hands at the touch, allowing him to smooth his thumb over the back of her hand, holding her to him. Hermione used the touch to do as the book she'd been reading suggested. She projected her own magic ever so subtly against his own, allowing it to travel the magical channel of his body, learning the feel of his magical core.

It felt cold. Like a windy, rainy day. He reminded her of winter. His magic was cold, his personality locked beneath a layer of ice as he performed the things necessary of him as a loyal servant of the Dark Lord. The touch of his magic against her own was strange, but not unfamiliar. It felt a little like the way it had felt when Voldemort's magic had raced across hers and when Remus's had swirled through her. She was careful to use only the tiniest amount of her own magic, channelling her power through him and diving into his mind.

She'd never entered anyone's mind before, Hermione realised with a jolt. It wasn't anywhere as easy to do as she'd hoped. A whirl of colour, random thought, disjointed images and memories flooded her own subconscious and Hermione nearly stumbled with her sudden dizziness. It felt odd and unfamiliar to experience and witness someone else's inner monologue.

She pushed through, however, hoping Rabastan hadn't noticed her presence as she searched for the one thing she'd entered his mind for. She wanted to know how he did his pleasure spell. He must use it often, she realised. She stumbled upon it unexpectedly, a disjointed thought flashing amid a sea of images, including one of her that very morning when she'd been in the shower with him. Holding her hand seemed to have sparked the memory for him and Hermione watched with interest as the memory showed him touching her and focusing the magic on her.

It felt strangely like looking at oneself on film.

She could see herself, her eyes half-lidded, her expression wrought with pleasure as her body sought friction and release. As she watched the memory, she was also aware of his thoughts as he'd done it. He'd used the spell to focus on her body, stimulating the senses simply by thinking about the way he would touch her and projecting that idea into a feeling. The magic acted as his hands and Hermione smiled to herself as she realised it was so much more than an incantation.

Like every spell, it required intent. The intent to touch; to pleasure.

"And just where have you been?" Bellatrix sneered, having spotted her when Snape's rummage through Regulus's mind failed to hold her interest.

Hermione jolted slightly at being interrupted and she withdrew from Rabastan's mind quickly, smoothing her thumb against his skin in return before he released her hand, clearly sensing their audience and Bella's scrutiny of the causal yet affectionate touch.

"I hardly think that's your business, Bella," Hermine drawled coldly, turning her attention to Snape and avidly watching as he scoured through Regulus's mind. He didn't bother with subtlety or finesse. Regulus was clearly struggling not to growl expletives and not to throw the man out of his head. His fists were clenched tightly and he was pale. Sweat dotted his brow and his upper lip

"You were late to the battle," Bellatrix hissed, clearly annoyed about Hermione's dismissive and uninterested tone, "The Dark Lord's furious with you! You'll be punished."

The witch lifted her wand as though she might point it at Hermione and hex her. She sounded gleeful about the idea of Hermione being punished, as though she relished the idea of seeing Hermione in pain. Hermione supposed, given that the feeling was mutual, that she couldn't even blame the witch. They wanted one another dead and that was just fine by Hermione. The bad wolf inside of her practically salivated to end Bella's life with a flick of her wand and an outlet of all her pent up rage, fear and hatred.

"I forgot to ask, Bella, how rude of me. Do tell me how the conception plans are going," Hermione said flippantly, slowly turning to the witch, her own wand in her hand and raised, ready to defend herself if need be, "I only ask, of course, because it would be _such_ a shame if things for you were to … shall we say… begin _heating up_ again?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the other woman through her mask.

"You little bitch," Bellatrix snarled, her wand hand twitching at the mention of what Hermione had done to her last time, "How dare you threaten me? You filthy half-blood!"

"Oh, but Bella, didn't you hear?" Hermione sneered, laughing cruelly, "I'm the daughter of a Death Eater. That means that, as per the Dark Lord's new plans, I classify as a pureblood. Isn't it wonderful? Tell me, what's it like to know your precious pureblood spawn - should you actually manage to conceive, _at your age_ \- will be classed the same as the like likes of any mudblood whore squirting a Death Eater's child into the world? Doesn't it just make you want to celebrate your child's lack of superiority to half-bloods and mudbloods and filthy little muggles? They'll all be pretty little 'purebloods' despite their filthy parentage. Aren't you just so thrilled?"

The expression on Bellatrix's face at the sudden realisation that any chid she birthed - no matter how long and interrupted a line of purebloods the Blacks and the Lestranges might be - would be considered of no more status that a mudblood's rape-baby was beyond priceless. She looked like she might be ill. She looked like she wanted to commit murder. Mostly she looked rather alarmed and devastated as though the idea that whatever she managed to birth into the world and how 'pure' such a child might be, it would be considered of no more purity than some poor muggleborn witch's rape-baby.

"Oh…" Hermione sniggered cruelly, revelling in Bella's horror, "Didn't you realise?"

Bella's face rapidly darkened to crimson as though she'd been hexed again before she shrieked in utter fury and flung a slicing hex at Hermione in outrage for her insolence and the injustice being done to her. Hermione deflected it easily, returning fire with one of her own, followed quickly by the spell Rabastan had created. She'd been thinking about it carefully all afternoon since Snape had mentioned that no one knew the spell Rabastan used to inflict pleasure on his victims.

Bellatrix tried to erect a shield charm for the second spell, having deflected the first one, but she wasn't quite quick enough. And it wasn't that she was actually slow or an inept duellist, she just didn't seem to be expecting that Hermione would shoot two-rapid fire spells as her.

It wasn't common duelling style and it defied duelling etiquette to fire two shots at once. Traditionally, one was meant to take turns, but Hermione had never liked that idea. If she could best someone by going out of turn, she would do so. If she could surprise them and catch them off guard, thus furthering her chances of winning, she would do it every time. The elder dark witch gasped in a slow, ragged breath at the intensity of the spell. Hermione had figured it out. She'd been wracking her brain all afternoon, trying to work out how Rabastan did it.

"What have you done to her now?" Rodolphus snarled, but Hermione ignored the man, focusing on the spell and using it to inundate Bellatrix's sense with pleasure. She pressed the witch in all the ways Hermione herself like to be stimulated, focusing on the areas that would best bring her undone.

"You… you taught her…." Bellatrix clutched at her husband's arm for support when her knees began to quake. Her breathing quickened and her cheeks turned pink with exertion and pleasure as she tried to gather her wits beneath the onslaught. Hermione kept her eyes trained on the woman, watching as she began to squirm slightly, wriggling as though she were actually being touched and licked and kissed in places Hermione herself liked to be touched.

She'd thought it might be hard, that she would need to think about sexually touching or gratifying Bellatrix, but she'd been mistaken. All she had to think about was her own pleasure and focus the intent through her magic and into Bellatrix.

"You… bastard… you taught her your… spell?" she demanded of Rabastan raggedly, her breath coming in sharp little pants, and Hermione caught the way Rabastan's attention, which had only half been on the fight breaking out between his sister-in-law and his intended, suddenly snapped over to look at Bella.

"I didn't teach her _my_ signature spell," he argued immediately before glancing over at Hermione.

Hermione wondered if her expression would match his when he performed the spell; detached, yet curious. Utterly disaffected, but still intrigued. Morbidly curious to a fault. The expression made so much more sense to her as she practiced the magic. She felt morbidly curious to watch it unfold, to watch the way the other witch's body reacted to the spell, to see how different things she tried effected Bellatrix in different ways to those she experienced herself. Hermione was too busy focusing the magic on Bella to be able to see Rabastan's face as she performed the spell.

Actually, it wasn't a complicated spell. A slight change to the Cruciatus curse incantation, changing the suffix and a few vowels and the effect changed. Instead of indicting pain, it produced pleasure. She was smart enough to have figured out how to alter the spell, just not the exact incantation he used. Hence her rummage through his mind.

"Well, she fucking knows it!" Bella hissed between clenched teeth, beginning to writhe in pleasure, gripping her husband tightly as a low moan escaped her, her breath panting and her legs pressing together, trying to bring friction to the parts of her that Hermione was remotely stimulating.

Rabastan's eyes were fixed on Hermione as she watched the other witch careen towards orgasm. He seemed to be holding off on intervening until Bella reached her peak, which Hermione supposed was actually rather decent of him. The idea that it depended entirely on her to withhold or allow Bella to orgasm right then made her feel very powerful and she felt a sick twist inside her chest when she realised this must be how it felt to torture someone to the brink of madness with pain. This was what it must feel like to use the Cruciatus curse for a prolonged length of time on a victim. Watching Bella squirm unnerved her in a most alluring manner.

"Oh, Lord," Bella squealed, turning her face into Rodolphus's chest and rubbing herself against the wizard needily, "Eeeen!"

Hermione smirked when the other woman went right over the edge and into the abyss waiting to engulf her. Bellatrix slumped heavily against her husband and Hermione lifted the spell, still smirking and beginning to chuckle just a little bit.

"You taught her that?" Rodolphus asked, looking like he couldn't decide if he was disgusted with his brother for sharing the spell; horny because his wife had just orgasmed in his arms, or furious that she had been forced to do so in front of so many witnesses.

"You've been in my head, love?" Rabastan asked, ignoring his brother and his sister-in-law. He lifted one hand and smoothed the back of his index finger against her still bruised cheek to get her attention. He did it patronisingly. As though he wanted to garner her attention and perhaps to touch her because he liked to unsettle her. As though the threat of the pain he could cause by pressing any harder on the bruised flesh might be a means to control her into answering him even if she didn't want to.

Hermione could tell he didn't like the idea that she'd figured out how to do the spell. That he'd liked being the only one who knew how to perform the magic.

Turning her eyes slowly from Bellatrix, Hermione met his gaze boldly, her own mental walls erected and ready to fend off any attack he might mount. She returned the gesture of touching his cheek in a way that was almost patronising of his own patronisation, smoothing her finger across his high cheekbone and watching the way his green eyes bored into her own brown pair intensely.

"Turnabout is fair play, _love,_ " Hermione replied in the silky voice that Snape so often used.

Rabastan narrowed his eyes at her, clearly not liking the idea that she knew he'd been in her head. Or that she'd been inside his without him realising it

"I didn't snoop through your spells though, did I?" he growled, looking angry at the idea that he'd been violated that way without his knowledge. He was obviously very protective of his spell and didn't want to share.

"You would have, if you'd had more time," Hermione accused just as quietly, feeling him trying to penetrate her mind even as he stared at her. Having been inside his head and touched his magical core, Hermione could even sense the presence of his magic as it oozed against her own. It felt like a cool draught in a cold hallway. He smirked slowly when he found no way to gain access beyond her mental barriers, pressing hard enough to give her a headache before withdrawing.

"I see you weren't lying about being less likely to behave when better rested," he drawled wickedly.

Hermione bounced her eyebrows at him cockily in a way she so recalled seeing Draco Malfoy do in their younger years at school when he was tormenting Harry.

"You…." Bellatrix hissed, looking over at Hermione as she straightened her clothes and stood on her own once more, still panting, her cheeks flushed with exertion and some embarrassment by being so easily brought to release by her enemy.

"There's no need to thank me, Bella," Hermione smirked, holding up a hand as though the woman were actually intent on thanking her. She didn't even bother looking in Bella's direction, too busy smirking at Rabastan. "Tell me something, Bass, do you count it as having fucked a person if you use that spell on them?"

"You really did snoop through my head if you know how it works," he growled, narrowing his eyes on her.

"I already knew how it worked. All I needed was the proper incantation. Does it count? Do I number dear Bella among the notches on my bedpost?"

"I want to see you actually bed her," one of the other Death Eaters in the room who'd been silently watching Regulus's interrogation piped up, "That was fuckin' hot."

"Who's he?" Hermione asked, quirking one eyebrow at Rabastan.

"Mulciber."

"How do you do, Mr Mulciber?" Hermione asked, offering the other wizard a smile and a curtsey.

"Oooh, and manners too," Mulciber practically purred, looking like he'd very much like to watch her lips gliding down the length of his cock.

"She doesn't get a notch on your bedpost unless you physically touch her," Rabastan informed her coolly, looking further annoyed by Mulciber's comments and his tone. Hermione smirked wider at the wizard, enjoying his display of perturbation.

"I mentally touched her. That should count. I mean, anyone can fuck. It takes skill to bring someone off with just your mind," Hermione pretended to pout, unable to keep from grinning when Bellatrix flinched slightly at her reasoning and her language.

"Yes, I know," Rabastan commented, looking amused by her response, his annoyance slipping away as he began to look intrigued by her all the more. Hermione could tell she'd just become an even bigger puzzle for him to solve.

She smirked at him slowly, feeling the need to test out the spell, finding it addictive. She suddenly had an all too real understanding of the Cruciatus curse and why it was so dangerous and so unforgivable. It was alluring and seductive magic to use. To project one's own will upon another and watch them writhe was something she couldn't even describe. There was just something so satisfying about it that she couldn't resist turning Rabastan's own spell upon him to see how he'd react.

"Don't," Rabastan warned her, seeming to feel the first tendrils of the spell and rolling his shoulders slightly, "You want to get me off love, then you know far more exciting and satisfying ways to do it."

Hermione winked at him, lifting the spell carefully and returning her attention to where Snape was still rummaging through Regulus's mind. It was clear to her as she watched him that he was hunting far more vigorously than Rabastan must've done. He seemed to be looking for things in particular and he didn't seem to care that Regulus looked faint in his chair.

"Papa?" Hermione asked, watching them both and recalling that it was far harder to be free of someone's head if they passed out while someone else was in their mind.

Snape jerked ever so slightly and lifted the spell, slanting a glance towards her. He seemed to realise from her pointed look at Regulus's state that he'd gone a bit too far. When he returned the look with a dark expression of his own, Hermione realised he'd done it on purpose, waiting for her or for someone else to stop him before Regulus passed out. She didn't doubt he was powerful enough to get free of Regulus's mind once he'd lost consciousness if he wanted to.

He just wanted people to think he was furious over not knowing Regulus had been a spy in the Order's midst. That he was raiding the man's head for information on how he'd gotten away with hiding so effectively. That he was punishing Regulus for losing face over the idea of being the best spy in the midst of the Order for so long, undetected. Hermione nodded her head once as she held his gaze before turning her attention away again.

"So, are you going to tell me who this git is?" Hermione asked, turning back to Rabastan once more and ignoring the way Bellatrix seemed to be watching her with an expression that was three parts pure loathing and one part lust.

She'd just gotten the witch to orgasm in under a minute, and Hermione doubted Bellatrix – the exhibitionist – was upset about who got her off or who saw it happen. In fact, the witch looked almost like she couldn't decide if she wanted to murder her or to fuck her. The idea made Hermione feel rather ill, but she supressed her shudder and focused her attention more fully on Rabastan to block Bellatrix out completely.

"Regulus Black," Rabastan shrugged as though the man hadn't been in bed with them all cuddled up a few hours ago.

He shot her a look that Hermione suspected was meant to warn her away from mentioning that fact. She got the feeling Rabastan wasn't supposed to have let the supposed prisoner and potentially traitorous wizard sleep with them. That he might be in a bit of trouble if anyone found out he'd so readily forgiven his friend before seeking the Dark Lord's approval and confirming Regulus's status as being loyal to them.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Hermione pretended ignorance of his belonging to an important pureblood family or his identity at all.

"He's a pureblood. One of Bella's cousin. His elder brother was with the Order of the Phoenix until Bella murdered him a couple of years ago. Regulus was a Death Eater, branded like us. He disappeared sometime before the Dark Lord went to Godric's Hollow and encountered Potter."

Hermione got the feeling Rabastan knew when Regulus had disappeared. Probably down to the day. As she glanced between both wizards, she got the feeling that they'd been best friends before Regulus had disappeared. She wondered idly why Regulus had disappeared in the first place. She knew he'd found out about the Horcruxes before he went missing. He'd been the one to take the real locket and replace it with a fake. She knew about the Potion too, and Kreacher had told his tale of how his Master Regulus had made the elf feed him the potion that made the drinker delirious.

Hermione had believed that he had tried to drink the water in that cursed place and been devoured by the Inferi. However that obviously wasn't the case. Kreacher had been rather mum on what had happened to Regulus, actually. He clearly didn't know Regulus was Crookshanks, but he hadn't actually said that he believed his master was dead. Only that he hadn't seen or heard a peep from his master since that day.

Had Kreacher apparated Regulus out of the cave? Had he attempted to fetch water or something to help Regulus before Regulus transformed or perhaps disapparated away from the elf? Why had he gone into hiding?

That he'd taken the horcrux and could have been caught, interrogated and tortured was one option. However it seemed clear that until today, Voldemort believed his Horcrux was safe and untouched. So why had Regulus disappeared? No one seemed to know where he'd gone. The question was, why had he been in hiding so long? What had he been doing between the years when Voldemort died and Hermione found him in the pet shop in Diagon Alley? How had he spent so long hiding as a cat? Had Sirius known Crookshanks was actually his own brother?

Hermione recalled Crooks being very fond of Sirius. Often seeking him out and sitting with him when they'd been as Headquarters. He'd protected Sirius from Harry before they'd heard the full story about Pettigrew too. And Remus had said Sirius known all along that Crookshanks was Regulus, hadn't he? That Remus had known it too since Hermione's fifth year.

An idea occurred to her that Sirius had probably been the one to teach Regulus animagi in the first place when he'd mastered it himself. His kid brother would have made use of such information, surely. Obviously he had, since he'd become Crookshanks. Hermione glanced between Rabastan and Regulus again, recalling that Rabastan was also an animagus. Regulus must've taught him when he learned from Sirius. Further suggesting the idea that they were close friends.

Did that mean Rabastan had known Crookshanks was Regulus? The dark wizard had never seen her cat, as far as Hermione was aware. She didn't advertise his existence. She took him to school and with her to wherever she was over the holidays, but she wasn't known for her cat the way Harry was known for Hedwig before she'd been killed protecting him. Maybe he had known and would have recognised him, but had simply never seen him.

She smirked at the idea of so many intricate secrets weaving a delicate web all around them. But she didn't mention them. Instead she feigned disinterest in the entire idea, casting her eyes around the hall and noting that the number of dead was growing. Forty-one bodies were now laid out on the floor across the room, each of them placed on their backs, in varying states of horror. Many people seemed to be working on bringing the dead Death Eaters back and she imagined that once their sacrifice had been confirmed, they would be returned to their families for burial.

A twinge of guilt prickled through her at the idea. She had attended enough funerals for her own friends and members of the Order to know that every loss was painful and a wretched blow to their movement and their morale. Would it be the same for Death Eaters? Their families might mourn them, but would the brethren? Hermione doubted they would all stand around drinking and recalling fond memories of the deceased.

She suspected Slytherin-types like the Death Eaters were far more creative and far less forgiving and accepting in the face of their loss. They might all squabble and seek to undo one another, but Hermione suspected they would unite against a common enemy in their retaliation strike.

"Where's Draco?" she asked of Rabastan, refusing to think on such dark topics any longer, knowing all she knew about what might be in her immediate future when the Dark Lord returned.

"Cooling off," Rabastan smirked, his own gaze having strayed back to Regulus where he was once again being interrogated by Snape. "Probably in his room."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him, hoping for an explanation. Cooling off? What did that mean? It occurred to her as she stood there that Regulus, Rabastan and Draco had all been left sitting in her bed when Snape had dragged away to heal her and question her and then ravish her senseless again. Had he gotten his wand in a knot about Regulus being in bed with the three of them? Had he been angry about being ditched when she was dragged off with Snape when he didn't know where too?

Hermione would bet it was mostly the first one after having heard what he had to say on his possessiveness of her and Bass. The last thing his wolf would handle was having some other random wizard turn up out of nowhere with a complicated history with Bass.

"Will he be joining us this evening?" Hermione asked rather than enquiring about the reason he needed to cool off.

"Probably," Rabastan nodded, slanting a glance at her and smirking before returning his attention back to Regulus.

Hermione herself was in two minds about Regulus. On the one hand he was a human who'd played her for a fool but meant a great deal to her as her beloved cat. On the other, she didn't know him at all and though he was obviously invested in helping her and needed to be kept close to ensure he didn't out her secrets and give away her cover, Hermione didn't know if she was supposed to show care or sympathy for him.

He'd told her to pretend she didn't know him and had never heard of him, so for the time being that's what she would have to do. Until she could get him alone and quiz him, she'd have no choice. Hermione sighed and twirled her wand idly in her hand. She was already bored with the proceedings.

"You never did tell us where you were or why you were late when the Dark Lord summoned you, Mina," Bellatrix spoke up again at that moment, seeming to have recovered her wits enough to form coherent sentences without wanting to jump Hermione.

"I was… in the middle of something," Hermine answered, slanting a smirk at Rabastan, who began to laugh as her choice of wording since she'd been right in the middle between Rabastan and Draco while they'd shagged.

"Nothing is so important that you don't drop it when the Dark Lord calls," Bella hissed and Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"She was with me Bella," Rabastan answered. "And I wasn't about to let her go anywhere until I was _finished_ with her."

Rodolphus had clearly caught on and though his mask hid his mouth, Hermione could tell from the amused glitter in his eyes that he was just now picking up what she might have been in the middle.

"And Draco?" Bella demanded. "You said he was with you as well."

"Well," Hermione giggled, "He wasn't in the middle."

Rabastan laughed even louder.

"You ignored the Dark Lord's call just to fuck some half-blood whore and that mongrel?" Bellatrix demanded of Rabastan, looking positively outraged.

"We agreed that I count as a pureblood, Bella," Hermione inserted before Rabastan could answer. "I don't think the Dark Lord would be too pleased to hear you disparaging his ordinance this way."

"As opposed to ignoring his summons?" Bella scoffed, though her grey eyes narrowed hatefully behind her mask. "He's going to eat you alive."

"He won't be the first one to enjoy my taste," Hermione retorted and Rabastan's laughter grew even more as he threw his head back and laughed long and loud.

Amid the grim setting of the hall inside Malfoy's Manor dark décor, the sight of the dark wizard looking positively gleeful was unsettling at best. He looked right at home, despite the number of dead bodies being laid out at one end of the hall, and in spite of the man chained to a chair being verbally and mentally interrogated viciously. The tension inside the room was thick and alive with fear and an already feral anger. Hermione could sense that everyone was aware that whatever had so upset the Dark Lord was going to be taken out on them whenever he returned.

Rabastan looked like a small boy as he laughed gleefully, his head thrown back, his eyes closed, sides heaving as he laughed heartily at her words and Hermione hated the Bad wolf inside her soul for revelling in the sound. In the atmosphere, the death, the pain, the suffering to come. Like the frenzy she imagined a wolf-pack stirred themselves to before a hunt, the taste of fear in the air was awakening the vicious, cold-hearted, wretched parts of her soul that had thus far been tamped down, forgotten, or suppressed. That Rabastan looked so handsome while he laughed at her play on words only made the situation all the more enticing and if not for the way it would paint her as a target to hurt the wizard, she might've reached over and snogged him right them.

That, in itself, was alarming because Rabastan was creepy. He was handsome as the devil, but he had a creep factor to him that made it feel like someone was running their icy fingers down the length of her spine. That morbid curiosity of his spoke of the darkness inside him that Hermione doubted she could ever rival and that she most certainly didn't want to trifle with. If she was being honest, the Good wolf inside of her feared the likes of Rabastan Lestrange almost more than Bellatrix or even Rodolphus. Bella was terrifying in her insanity and her cold-hearted hatred, her bigotry and her zealotry.

Were they snakes in the grass, Bellatrix would be a big, angry, spitting cobra raised to dance, hissing and spitting venom – always ready to strike and end the lives of those who antagonized her. But Rabastan, he was no dancing cobra. No, if he were a serpent, he would be something else entirely. An anaconda with prettily patterned scale, lying in wait until one wandered dangerously close, just waiting to be drawn into his tight coils before being constricted and poisoned. He was like a Venus fly trap, enticingly offering his victims something they might want, waiting for them to dip in for a taste before snapping closed and keeping them, tormenting them, until death claimed them.

Hermione hated herself a little for the way, in spite of seeing the danger, she felt like she was being drawn in for a closer look just the same. She hated the way her own curiosity made her want to push him, to test his limits, to see how far he might go, to test how much it would take to make him break. The very idea alarmed her immensely, and knowing what Snape had said would be coming for them when Voldemort returned, Hermione could only assume she was either doomed, or likely to make it through even less human than she already felt.

Just as she was opening her mouth, intent on continuing to banter with the dark wizard and further antagonize Bellatrix, Hermione felt a searing pain shoot through her arm. The wretched burning of being summoned, combined with the sickening, roiling feel of terrible darkness inside her very soul that accompanied the call made Hermione groan internally. The sting of the summons actually felt rather nice thanks to the potion Snape had insisted she ingest, but Hermione still felt like the most wretched darkness had taken root deep inside her, infecting her and spreading its poison.

Looking around the hall, Hermione watched the other Death Eaters as they all clamped their hands over their Dark Marks, some hissing, some groaning. The fear on their faces from the wretched pain of the summons almost succeeding in bringing her undone but the Hermione within her soul sank even deeper inside its glacial lake, leaving only the cold, unfeeling, cruel persona of Mina in its wake.

She watched as Rabastan stepped towards her as though he meant to take her hand to apparate her with him to wherever the Dark Lord was summoning them too, but before he could touch her, the doors at the far end of the hall exploded open in a frigid blast of icy wind and rubble and such pure, furious magic that everyone in the room was knocked right off their feet. Lord Voldemort stalked into the room even as the sting of the Cruciatus curse began to bubble in the blood of his followers, forced to the floor, beginning to cry out. His eyes glowed a furious shade of red and she didn't think she'd ever seen anyone so angry. When she looked in Snape's direction, the potion she'd taken allowing her a modicum of control over her body as the pain she ought to have been feeling manifested as pleasure, she found his black eyes already fixed on her.

If she looked past the faintest twinges of pleasure and pain mixed together with utter nothingness upon his wretched features, Hermione could almost see the resignation and the apology in his eyes.


	23. Chapter 23: Friction

**A/N: I can't wait to watch you lose you minds on this one. Thanks ever so much to those of you who actually take the time to read and review. I'm very appreciative to you to know you like the story and want to see it continued.**

 **Much love! xx-Kitten.**

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 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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 **Chapter 23: Friction**

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 _... "Time's racing, please slow down,_

 _I've got to find my way out,_

 _I'm hopeless, but hoping my lungs won't fail me now"_...

 **Still Breathing (Mayday Parade)**

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Third year at Hogwarts had taught Hermione the feel of what it was like to be in the presence of several Dementors at once. She still had nightmares sometimes about the wretched cold that had cloaked her; about the terrible sadness and horror that had filled her when she was so close to them. It haunted her dreams and every time she felt a particularly cold draught, Hermione Granger recalled that moment before Harry had conjured his patronus and saved her, Sirius, and himself. It had been the worst thing she had ever experienced up until her branding. And even her branding had been more about pain than about the wretched cold that sapped her strength and robbed her of all cheerful thought or memory.

Being in the Dark Lord's presence right then felt so much worse than that night.

She knew the amount of pain she was meant to be in as she writhed on the floor inside Malfoy Manor alongside every other Death Eater. She knew because the spell was triggering the potion in her system and flooding her senses with pleasure. A wretched, stinging kind of pleasure that she wanted to stop. All around the hall, more and more people were arriving as they heeded the summons of their Dark Lord and every single one of them fell to their knees and began to scream and writhe atop the ice the room had filled with.

The fury of Lord Voldemort was beyond compare. Mina Graziana-Snape watched the way, beside her on the floor, Rabastan Lestrange shuddered and dug his suddenly transformed claws into the thick layer of ice now coating the marble floor of Malfoy Manor. She watched without compassion as those around her suffered the effects of their Lord's wrath. She watched the way the entire pack of Fenrir Greyback's werewolves – who had followed Voldemort through the destroyed doorway and into the hall – all growled and whimpered their way through the torture.

She wondered idly if this torture was worse than what they endured beneath the glow of the full moon when their bones broke, their skin tore open and their insides reshaped themselves from human to wolf. She wondered how many would lose their minds beneath the chill and the pain and the wretched anger of the Dark Lord.

Dimly she was aware that the evilest wizard of all time was screaming obscenities, cursing them all for useless fools who ought to have stopped the Order. He snarled that they should have seen it coming. That they should have been prepared. That they had failed him. He shrieked that they ought to have killed every last member of the Order of the Phoenix and that they didn't deserve to live. He screamed about the destruction of Azkaban, the sealing of Hogwarts, the sabotage of the Ministry.

Mostly, he screeched about the loss of his Horcruxes, though she doubted any but his most loyal followers in addition to Snape, Regulus, and herself, really knew the reason for his anger. He didn't actually mention them by name. He did curse the name of Harry Potter and all who followed him. Mina herself was lost in a turbulent sea of cold and hot and the frigid pleasure of unwanted orgasm as the first one wracked through her system, slamming into her with all the force of a cataclysmic earthquake.

As the noise of her pleasure escaped her, Mina caught sight of the way Rabastan Lestrange slowly turned his head and forced his eyes open to look at her. She was aware of the way his pain-filled eyes opened just a little bit wider as her back arched off the floor, her body bowing as though being expertly touched rather than being tortured into madness. Forcing her own eyes to remain open, Mina held his green-eyed gaze, her breath coming in sharp little pants.

Several more orgasms worked through her as the torture went on. All around her upon the floor, people were screaming in their agony as the Dark Lord tormented them. Sobbing and choking could be heard. The sound of gagging filled her ears and the foul smell of people soiling themselves clogged her nostrils as she gritted her teeth through another orgasm without looking away from Rabastan. She was dimly conscious of the fact that the potion Snape had given her to confuse her senses was clearly of a much higher dose than he'd given her before her initiation.

As the pain went on, Hermione watched it push even the most steadfast of followers over the edge. Right before her eyes, Rabastan lost the ability to cling to his mental barriers, to hold his human form. He transformed before her eyes, his body blurring and taking on the shape of the wolverine his animgaus form. Sprouting fur and claws, she watched as the wizard snarled ferociously. The pain was so great that he lost all ability to hang onto one form over the other and Mina watched the way his body flashed numerous time between man and wolverine. By the end he had to force his eyes closed, unable to control his body and unable to keep it together.

Finally a scream tore even from his lips, tinged with the pain of the involuntary transformation and the effects of the Cruciatus curse. Mina was sure that the Dark Lord was going to torture them into madness if he didn't let up soon. Just when she was certain the pain might override the effects of the potion she'd ingested, the Dark Lord finally lifted his curse.

People sobbed. They cried and they whimpered in agony.

Mina let out a slow shuddering breath as she tried to control the urge she herself had to cry. The Bad wolf inside her soul was strutting around revelling in the suffering of others and she noticed as she lifted her head from where her cheek had been resting on the icy floor that many people were now in bad shape. Puddles of vomit and other, even less savoury bodily fluids could be seen surrounding some.

Many of the werewolves from Greyback's pack were in states of partial transformation as though, like Rabastan, they'd lost the ability to hang onto human form. A number of them seemed to be having trouble settling on one form over the other, stuck in the half-shifted state between man and monster. Hermione spotted Draco across the room near his parents, similarly half-shifted. His eyes glowed gold and his fangs and claws were on display, but his face and his body were still mostly human-shaped, though he was covered in bright white fur.

Hermione hissed in a ragged breath of surprise when Rabastan snaked his hand across the cold floor and latched onto her wrist. Her slim form slid easily across the ice the Dark Lord had created within the room, bringing her closer to him until she was pressed right up against Rabastan and Hermione heard him draw in a slow, shuddering breath as he tried to regain his equilibrium.

"You're alright," he was whispering tightly, his eyes still clenched closed as he pulled her so close that he lifted his body to one side and tucked her in right underneath him, lifting himself off the floor and bringing her to him until she lay sprawled on her back beneath him. For a moment Hermione wondered if he'd done it as though he meant to comfort her. His words certainly suggested he were offering her reassurance.

But when she felt one of those violent shudders she'd felt from his last night, and heard the way he muffled his face against her shoulder before unleashing one of those wretched sounds that made all her hair stand on end, Hermione realised he'd pulled her close and was cuddling her for selfish reasons. He didn't want anyone to see him losing control, even after the Dark Lord's punishment. He didn't want to be vulnerable and he was using the idea of comforting her to cover his own weakness as he tried to re-establish his mental barriers to keep his human form.

The Bad wolf inside of her soul practically howled in triumph at his weakness and the last thing she felt like doing was comforting the dark wizard, but she spotted an opportunity to further endear him to her and she took it. Lifting her head from the ground, Mina burrowed her nose past the hood of his robes and into his neck. She found the spot upon his shoulder that was scarred from repeated biting - courtesy of Draco - and Mina bit down on it hard enough to break the skin.

Shuddering above her, Hermione felt Rabastan's whole body tremble violently when her hands lifted to grip him, recalling he needed extensive human contact to better ground himself. She couldn't get her hands inside the back of his robes when he was garbed for battle in the Death Eater uniform, but she did press him to herself as firmly as she could. Rabastan drew in a sharp breath at her actions before slowly relaxing against her and Hermione felt more than saw the way he settled back into staying human.

Just as Hermione was pulling her teeth from his flesh once more, the wretched voice of the Dark Lord spoke over the din of sobbing, crying, whimpering Death Eaters where they cowered before him.

"Rabastan!" the Dark Lord hissed, "Severus! What have you discovered during your interrogation of our dear friend, Regulus?"

"Better let me go, love," Rabastan muttered in her ear and she watched the way, suitably grounded - if somewhat rattled - Rabastan pressed both palms flat against the icy floor either side of her head and lifted himself up until he was essentially doing a push-up above her prone form. Hermione blinked up into his face for a moment, trying to calm the hammering rate of her heart inside her chest and trying to regain her own equilibrium enough to function after so many unwanted orgasms.

Rabastan blinked back at her before actually doing a push-up, despite the way his elbows trembled thanks to the aftershocks of the Cruciatus curse, as he lowered himself enough to brush his lips over hers lightly. She didn't even think about it as she kissed him back. It was simply becoming second nature to allow him access to whichever part of her body he saw fit to touch. Moving her lips lightly against his, Hermione thought seriously about pulling him back down on top of her and snogging him until the wretched aftershocks ceased.

"He was telling the truth about Potter's knowledge, my Lord," Snape's voice spoke over the sounds within the hall, as devoid of emotion as Hermione had ever heard it.

She felt a twinge of concern attempt to surface within her, but her bad wolf pounced on it and ripped it to shreds before she could fully form the thought to pull away from Rabastan's lips and look to her Professor.

"I am aware of that, Severus," Voldemort hissed coldly, the chill within the room deepening rapidly until Hermione began to shiver.

Rabastan pulled back from her lips and blinked at her in return. Hermione could almost see the way what little humanity he possessed went tranquil in his eyes, bleeding away into the ice created by the Dark Lord and the need to be emotionally detached in order to get through the coming ordeal without losing his mind. She only hoped she was capable of the same thing.

She watched with intrigue as Rabastan levered himself up until he was standing once more. His body trembled violently with the aftershocks of the torture they had all endured.

"He was also telling the truth about never having turned from the cause, my lord. He has been spying very effectively as the Mudblood's cat, and has much that he would be able to provide the brethren to infiltrate their safe-houses," Rabastan informed the Dark Lord and Hermione stared up at him from the floor, not at all sure she could move enough to get to her feet, as he had done, or even to sit up without groaning and whimpering like the rest of the Death Eaters currently did.

"Good," Voldemort sneered. "When you are all quite finished being pathetic, you will go forth and wreak havoc. Harry Potter and the Order will pay for the blows they have dealt us today. Go to every safe-house we know of. Terrorise every village. Burn it all to the ground. Slaughter all you encounter."

"My Lord?" Snape spoke quietly, risking the ire of Voldemort. "Would it not be more prudent to bring the witches here to take prisoner toward your long-term goal to replenish the ranks?"

Voldemort's lips curled in irritation.

"Where do you proposssse we keep the hostages, Sssssseverusssss?" Voldemort hissed. "Azkaban is losssst. It isssss nothing but rubble!"

Hermione noted idly that in his anger, Voldemort grew more snake-like, his voice elongating the hissing of 's' and making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

"The dungeons of the Manor are extensive, my Lord," Lucius Malfoy's voice spoke in the quiet. "Many more levels of them exist below those where we currently hold hostages."

Lord Voldemort's crimson gaze swivelled to settle of the Lord of Malfoy Manor and a sneer curled upon his lips, unspoken.

"It will have to do, for now," Voldemort hissed. "Any witch over the age of sixteen is to be brought back to Malfoy Manor. Kill the rest."

"Even the children, my Lord?" Rabastan dared to ask. "Would you not prefer to sway the young to the cause to replenish the ranks somewhat before the rest of us have the time to impregnate prisoners?"

The questions, or perhaps the reminder of the number of Marked Death Eaters lost pushed the Dark Lord too far and Hermione wasn't the only one to groan in agony as the room's occupants at large were subjected another round of the Cruciatus curse. Rabastan fell to his knees beside her and Hermione whined at the stimulation of her senses all over again when she'd just gotten the shudders somewhat under control.

"Take… that… as a… no… then," Rabastan hissed out between clenched teeth just loud enough for Hermione to hear as he was wracked with another bout of the Cruciatus curse.

Hermione's body writhed and her mind began to shut down. Not in the sense that she was losing consciousness. No, that would be entirely too easy. But she felt the way not only her humanity but her very sense of self began to slip away into some deeper recess within herself, her entire being going numb to the pleasure, the pain, the wretched acts she would be forced to witness; to commit; to revel in. It all slipped away, leaving nothing more than empty, heartless shell behind.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Hermione Granger woke alone, an ache permeating every part of her so deeply that she wasn't sure she would ever be pain free again. Her mind felt hazy and it occurred to her that she was naked. Something she noticed almost immediately because she seemed to have fallen asleep on top of the covers. Blinking blearily, Hermione tried to make sense of the world, wondering how she'd gotten there.

She felt the way she imagined one might after a long night spent drinking copious amount of alcohol, only, rather than being hungover, she felt more like she'd been hit by several trains. It was a similar feeling to when she'd been branded with her Dark Mark, only without the ache in her arm. No, the ache existed in her very soul and Hermione realised with a painful jolt that it was the same stinging sort of burn she'd felt when her soul had ripped when she'd killed Charles Torball. Hermione had a wretched, sinking feel in her gut that she'd taken more lives overnight.

Trying to recall how she'd gotten home or even what day it was, Hermione cast her mind back.

Snippets poured forth slowly, making her wish she could turn her mind off and simply go back to sleep.

 _Severus being tortured by Voldemort for his lack of knowledge about Regulus spying amongst the Order._

 _Villages burning._

 _Children screaming._

 _Blood. So much blood. Blood everywhere. On her hands. In her hair. On her robes._

Hermione glanced down at her skin and she paled at the sight of residual blood staining her flesh where it must've soaked right through her robes. Casting an eye towards the open bedroom door, Hermione spied the pile of black fabric by the door and the sight of it made her sick. The carpet surrounding the bunched up robe was crimson and turning brown as the blood dried. The robe, so drenched in blood, was leaving a stain upon the ratty grey carpet.

 _Women being raped while she stood and did nothing to help them. Men, begging for their lives, crying and sobbing as they were beaten and tortured. Children…. So many children. Running. Hiding. Screaming in terror as they tried to escape the masked demons that came in the night and laid waste to their homes, their parents, their lives._

"Oh God," Hermione breathed, the images coming faster now as her mind begin to whir.

Throughout every memory, Hermione was aware of her own participation in the events. Dimly recalling instances where men and women stared down the length of her wand before they met a merciful end. Executioner. That was what she recalled of her part in the evenings events. People dying by her hand when they were left broken, beaten, destroyed, but still breathing.

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth as she recalled a young woman not much older than her; her child cradled in her arms, dead; her body bared, stripped of her night-gown and left naked in the cold of the night amid the storm that raged. Her husband lay beyond her, his eyes open, unseeing, wand just beyond his grip. The begging and sobbing of the woman. Her screams to know why they'd done what they did to her family. To know why they'd left her alive after rutting her like feral beasts. Fenrir Greyback, partially shifted, running towards them and pouncing on her, flinging her child from her arms and shoving her to the ground before brutally raping her while Hermione looked on, not allowed to grant her mercy.

Vomit rose in her stomach as she recalled watching the werewolf drag her away. The women being rounded up, forcibly led to Portkeys, Imperiused to take hold of the charmed object that would portkey them to the dungeons at Malfoy Manor.

Stumbling for the door, her stomach heaving, Hermione made it into the hall and to the stairs, her steps staggering, her body not interested in cooperating. She tumbled down the stairs in a mess of limbs, skinning her palms and her knees, bumping her head and knocking her elbows against the walls as she fell. The fall temporarily controlled her stomach, but Hermione groaned, cursing and swearing as she pulled herself up enough to crawl towards the bathroom down the hall.

Her stomach contorted in on itself, cramping with the urge to vomit as more memories surfaced.

 _Death. Torture. The Cruciatus curse falling from her lips, the spell connecting with faceless, nameless victims while the other Death Eaters dished out more of the same treatment._

Hermione reached the bathroom and crawled for the toilet, vomiting into it and finding nothing but bile in her stomach. She vomited until even that didn't come up, her muscles straining, her back seizing, her stomach trying to turn itself inside out as she vomited. When she could heave no more, Hermione laid her forehead against the seat of the toilet, grateful at the very least that Snape was as particular as he happened to be about hygiene and cleanliness.

Dimly she noted that the sound of running water came from the shower and Hermione looked toward the cubicle, expecting to find Snape inside. She blinked stupidly at the sight of a hulking blond wizard, naked, leaning against the wall, one eye swollen shut, the other watching her blearily. His long golden-blond hair was slicked against his neck and his chest, and he had a nasty gash on his throat that looked only partially healed. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, trying to place him, knowing she knew his face from somewhere but so inundated with the horrid memories of all she had done and all she had seen that she couldn't distinguish him from among them.

Some of them were beyond comprehension. Indeed, many of the memories blurred together as though her mind were attempting to replace the horrors it had seen with things it could humanise; things it could rationalise.

"Who are you?" Hermione asked of the wizard in the shower, her voice hoarse and rough from the coughing and the ache of repeated vomiting.

"Thorfinn," he grunted, one blue eye still watching her with a mixture of suspicion and intrigue. "You're Mina, right?"

Hermione nodded her head, recalling his name and his face now. Thorfinn Rowle. She'd seen him battling at the Ministry when Harry had managed to nick him with a stray Sectumsempra. He was the man who'd chased her, Harry and Ron to the café after they'd fled Bill and Fleur's wedding. He was also the wizard who'd broken into Hogwarts at the end of their sixth year, killing a fellow Death Eater and an Order member during the Battle at the Astronomy Tower the night Dumbledore had died.

Thorfinn Rowle. Hermione vaguely recalled that he'd been a few years ahead of her at Hogwarts, in his fifth or sixth year when she'd been a first year. Frowning at him while she rested her cheek on the toilet seat and wondered if she was going to vomit again, Hermione tried to figure out what he was doing in her house – Snape's house – and why he was looking at her like that.

"What are you doing in my house, Thorfinn?" Hermione asked when she could uncover not a single reason that he would be standing there in her shower, naked, eyeing her curiously.

"Woke up in your bed," he shrugged his shoulders, "Blood all over…"

He waved a hand to his torso vaguely, as though indicating that, like her, he'd woken covered in the blood of their victims

"What were you doing in my bed?" Hermione frowned, feeling even more confused as she attempted to sift through the memories inside her mind, trying to find him amid them and figure out how he'd gotten there, what they'd been doing and whether or not she needed to kill him.

The very thought ought to have unnerved her, and Hermione's frown deepened when she discovered she felt no mental recoil from the idea of murdering the man before her. Indeed, she felt certain that she could do it that very moment and perhaps not even feel any remorse over it once it was done. Scowling, Hermione realised she was going to need to talk to Severus as soon as she could. Merlin, she also needed to talk to Remus.

Had the Order survived? Had Remus? Were Harry and Ron alright? Dear Merlin, the dead must number in the thousands by now.

Thorfinn snorted at her obvious confusion and then winced, as though the snorting had pained him.

"Pretty sure I fucked you," he replied bluntly. Hermione blinked at him stupidly for a moment over the very idea.

Had she had sex last night? Hermione didn't know. She didn't know a good number of things she'd done last night, though what she was recalling, they weren't good. In the large scheme of things, shagging a stranger was the least of her worries. Compared to murder and torture and the slaughter of children, what was a little harmless shag with a handsome wizard?

"Was I conscious?" she asked without thinking about how insulting the question might be.

To his credit, or perhaps detriment, she couldn't be sure, Thorfinn Rowle looked mildly affronted by the insinuation that he might've raped her while she was passed out. The expression morphed quickly into one of amusement however, when he realised that she genuinely had no memory of shagging him or getting home.

"Considering it was you who hauled me away from… pretty sure we were laying waste Morgana's Fields by then… I'd say, yes. You were conscious, Mina," he chuckled. "You came at me out of the smoke and the flames, dragging a bunch of witches by the hand. Put them all on a Portkey and then latched on me."

"Why would I haul you anywhere?" Hermione asked. "I don't even know you."

He held out his arm, showing her his Dark Mark as though that would explain her behaviour and indicated that there was nothing wrong with the two of them shagging even though she didn't recall ever meeting him or speaking to him or even seeing him since he'd been injured at the Ministry battle.

"Is that supposed to make us buddies?" Hermione raised one eyebrow at him.

"You're fun when you're confused," he replied, smirking slightly at her snarky question. "All I know is one minute I was hurling Fiendfyre and burning down the entire village to the ground; the next thing I know this pretty little witch comes out of nowhere, literally dripping in the blood of our enemies, grabs me by the front of my robes, and apparates. You affixed yourself to my face and snogged the daylights out of me."

Hermione blinked at the idea, trying to understand what would have driven her to such a thing. She supposed that if it seemed as though it would get her out of committing any more violence, heinous crimes, and stop him from continuing to burn down an entire village, it stood to reason that she'd have grabbed him and hauled him away.

"And you think we had sex as a result?" Hermione asked, her mind feeling sluggish as it tried to reconcile all she done and all she'd seen.

"Pretty sure," he nodded. "Given that I'm a hot-blooded male and you're sexy as hell, I doubt I'd have been objecting to the idea. Dunno for sure, though. My blood gets up when the magic rules and things get a little hazy. For you too I guess, since you don't remember, either."

Hermione frowned at the way he worded that sentence.

"Magic rules?" she asked, dragging herself to her feet and reaching for her toothbrush at the sink when she realised that though she'd have liked to keep vomiting, she didn't seem capable.

"Yeah. You know, that feeling when everything just kind of falls away and no form of magic seems too great or too hard to accomplish. My ancestors called it the Berserker state because your humanity recedes and primal instinct ruled by magic takes over," Thorfinn shrugged his shoulders.

"Berserker state? I take it your ancestors were Vikings?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him in the mirror.

He nodded his head slowly, his one working eye fixed on her naked arse as Hermione scrubbed her teeth. She squirmed suddenly when she felt a stickiness between her legs, and reaching a hand down there, Hermione frowned when her hand came away with more fluid than ought to be down there.

"This yours?" she asked, examining the white, sticky fluid on her fingers and suspecting it was ejaculate.

"Probably. Didn't see you fucking anyone else."

"But you're not sure you fucked me, either?" she confirmed.

"Feels like I did," he shrugged. "And you've got some bruises shaped like my fingers on your hip there."

He pointed to her right hip. Frowning at the mark, Hermione rinsed her toothbrush before crossing to the shower where he stood. Sticking her come-covered hand under the spray, Hermione marvelled at the sight of him. Up close he was all rippling muscle and chiselled lines, even if he did currently look like he'd been beaten up.

"What happened to your eye?" Hermione asked, turning so her back was too him before reaching back for his hand and guiding it to her hip, splaying his fingers over the top of the bruises on her skin and noting that they did, in fact, match the shape and size of his large hands.

He gripped her hip lightly, tugging her backwards and into the shower with him. Hermione supposed she ought to object, but given how wretched she was feeling, and the way her mind kept flashing images at her that she didn't want to recall witnessing, she was thinking he'd make a fine distraction. She was also finding that her soul felt too numb with the many new tears and rips in it to care, one way or the other, who she was naked with, who touched her, or even whether or not Draco, Rabastan or Snape would be upset with her over the idea of her having shagged Thorfinn.

"No clue," he admitted gruffly. "Can't see out of it though."

"No, it's swollen shut," Hermione informed him, leaning her back against his chest under the hot spray of the shower and sighing heavily. The hot water hit her skin and felt entirely too good, especially with the large wizard allowing her to lean against him.

Part of her mind was telling her that he was a Death Eater, a stranger, not someone she should be leaning against in a shower after having officially met him for the first time just a few minutes ago. The rest of her was pointing out that she'd already had sex with him, and that she needed to make more Death Eater friends, and that he was handsome as all get-out. Leaning into him a little more firmly, Hermione let her eyes slide closed.

"You're covered in blood, little witch," he murmured to her softly, releasing her hip and trailing a hand across her stomach and her chest.

Hermione didn't respond, torn between wanting to know what had happened and what she'd done, and also wanting to simply turn her mind off and try not to think about it when she knew that it was only going to make her feel even worse than she already did. When Thorfinn's hand left her skin before returning once more clutching something slick and sweet-smelling, Hermione realised he'd picked up a bar of soap and was tracing soapy circles over her flesh, bathing the blood from her flesh.

"You don't have to do that," Hermione murmured to the man she didn't even know without opening her eyes.

"Takes my mind of things," he shrugged quietly.

"You too, then?" Hermione asked, knowing without clarification that he meant it took his mind off the wretched images and the guilt over what he'd done.

"Mmmhmmm," he hummed. "You weren't the only one vomiting this morning after nights like the last three."

"Three?" Hermione asked, her eyes blinking open in alarm.

"You don't remember?" he asked, still bathing her slowly.

"It's been three days since the Battle at the Ministry? We've been raiding for three days?" she asked, concerned as she turned her head to meet his gaze.

"You really _were_ in the Berserker state," he muttered, frowning slightly. "Do you even know where you've been?"

Hermione shook her head.

"I remember being at Malfoy Manor," she said quietly, frowning. "The Dark Lord took his fury out upon us… and then it's all just flashes and snippets. Murdering people. Torturing people. Collecting women and sending them to the Manor… so many children killed. So many wizards…"

"We stopped killing most of them after the first night," Thorfinn whispered, squeezing his eyes closed for a long moment as though the memories pained him. "The Dark Lord summoned us after we desecrated almost the entire western end of London, hundreds of thousands of muggles killed. The wizarding population can't sustain a hit like that. Not if we want to avoid the idea of ending up inbreeding to keep the magic in our bloodlines. Men and children were taken prisoner too, after that. Kept in different sections at the Malfoy Manor, Rowle Tower, Lestrange Châteaux and Selwyn Hall. The dungeons are overflowing with prisoners."

"What…." Hermione murmured. "What's to happen to them all? The men and children?"

"The Dark Lord means to enlist the wives, mothers, sisters and so forth of the Marked and initiate a foster system for the magical children. Any muggles or squibs amid the captured will be disposed of," Thorfinn murmured. "The wizards will be used to… flesh out the gene pool when necessary. Any witch not pregnant after the raids will be expected to birth the child of a Marked Death Eater, and once that child is born and claimed by the Marked family, the witches will be paired with any half-blood or blood traitor amongst the captured to breed another generation of children who will be taught the right way, the Dark Lord's way, and eventually they will serve as part of the community that the Dark Lord plans to reinstate once the implementation of the Dark Lord's reign is complete."

Hermione's brow furrowed deeply at his words. She shuddered involuntarily at the very idea that these poor people would suffer as a result of their circumstance of birth, or their refusal to join a side in the war that waged throughout wizarding Britain. Or their sheer bad luck that had landed them in a prison cell.

"And you, little witch?" Thorfinn murmured, tracing her breasts with the bar of soap.

"Me?" Hermione asked, confused.

"What is your role in all this? Daughter of as loyal a servant as Snape, willing to sacrifice for the cause, but still female. You have a part to play in all this. You've heard, I suspect, about the Dark Lord's plans to see his followers all wedded and birthing the new 'pureblood' generation to one day succeed us amid the ranks?"

Hermione nodded her head slowly.

"Well, are you on contraceptives, then?" he wanted to know, putting down the soap and reaching for one of her legs.

Hermione frowned as he manipulated her until she had one foot propped up on the wall level with her hip in the corner of the shower, leaning her weight back against him all the more firmly. She gasped when he slid his free hand down to cup the junction between her thighs. His fingers speared into her without warning or permission and Hermione whined very softly in the back of her throat in surprise as heat rushed through her.

"I'm… Papa tells me it is likely I'm to be wedded to Rabastan and Draco," Hermione told the wizard who seemed more intent on cleansing her silken passage of his essence right then, than in bringing her pleasure.

"Of course you are," he sighed, lowering his face slightly and nuzzling into the side of her neck.

Hermione bit her lip at the sensation when he trailed a line of suckling little nips down her neck, his fingers moving inside her slowly.

"But I'm on contraceptives until I'm married," she told him, realising he was concerned, or perhaps hopeful, that he might knock her up after their escapades.

Had he been perhaps thinking that if he was going to be forced to marry someone, he'd have considered marrying her for the cause? Hermione frowned at the very idea.

"In other words, you're promised to them, but you wouldn't object to fucking me again?" he smirked.

"Not if you keep doing that, I wouldn't," Hermione admitted, tilting her head further to give him better access to her neck while her hips rocked against his fingers of their own accord, seeking more friction.

"Knew you were a good sort, little witch," he muttered in her ear before nibbling her earlobe.

Hermione's breath hitched when he changed his thrusts with his fingers, apparently satisfied that she was clean once more and so intent on bringing her pleasure instead. Twisting her head slightly, Hermione reached up on her tiptoes to claim his mouth, the pain inside of her receding and the wretched thoughts in her head scattering at the feeling of being pleasured.

Her mind screamed at her that she was breaking Snape's rule. That she was meant to be learning to control her reactions to being touched this way. But Hermione didn't want to be in control right then. She wanted him to take away her control. Her thoughts. Her pain. Her wretched feelings of being a monster. His facial hair scratched slightly against her skin, stimulating her senses all the more as he kissed her slowly, lips on lips. Letting her foot slide back down the wall, Hermione turned further in his hold until she faced him, all without breaking the kiss.

His tongue swept out to trace the shape of her lips, and Hermione didn't hesitate to open to him. Her tongue met his and stars danced behind her closed eyelids. Gods, she adored being snogged. Gripping his hips, Hermione pressed herself to him hungrily, realising with a jolt that this was a wizard who wanted nothing from her but the opportunity to forget the horror of their actions; he sought only the flesh of a warm, willing witch to bury his cock in for a little while and after everything she'd been living through, Hermione found the very idea addictive.

Draco wanted her to be his wife and his ally. Someone who accepted his lycanthropy and the fact that he was unwillingly a Death Eater. Someone who wouldn't scorn him for his condition and who'd prevent him from having to shag unwilling witches repeatedly until he contributed heirs to the Dark Lord's plans. He was volatile and dangerous and as much an enemy as he was an ally. He also felt strangely like home, comfortable and familiar amid a sea of unfamiliarity.

Rabastan wanted her for his wife, too. He wanted to unravel her and figure out how best he could manipulate her. He wanted to use her for his own ends as surely as Draco did and as surely as Hermione intended to use him in return. He was twisted and sly and cunning, and while a part of her was leaning towards enjoying him and her body was learning that it was, for the time being, to belong to him, he was not to be trusted.

Even Snape touched her and shagged her for the purpose of educating her, of training her to ensure she could not be so easily manipulated and that she wouldn't give away their true allegiance or their end-goals. He also fucked her for the outlet she made when he was pushed to his limits and his emotions might get away from him. He was clinical and safe and Hermione didn't doubt that a large part of her was growing to care for the dark wizard.

They all wanted something from her. They all had expectations of her that required her to be on the ball, on her game and always on the alert in their company. Thorfinn Rowle, on the other hand, wanted nothing as far as she could tell. He didn't seem like he cared one way or the other that he'd hinted towards being uncomfortable with the things he'd done during the raids. He didn't seem worried that she would use it against him, and he hadn't commented that she'd vomited and been similarly concerned over the way things had turned out.

All he seemed to want was to be able to bury his problems by burying his cock inside of her, asking nothing but that she willingly participate with the idea and Hermione was thinking she could use that. Tracing her tongue along his, feeling her body roar to life as though she'd grabbed a live wire, Hermione kissed him hotly. When his hands slid to cup her breasts, she arched into the touch. When her own hand slid south to grasp his jutting erection, he groaned and pressed her back against the wall of the shower.

He scooped her from the floor and Hermione didn't even think about it as she wrapped her legs around his lean waist, locking her ankles at the small of his back. He fished her hand from his cock and aligned himself with the junction of her thighs, seeming as desperate for the penetration as she felt herself. Hermione blinked her eyes open, her breath coming in sharp pants when he broke their fervid kiss and his non-bruised eye met hers as he slowly impaled her.

"Oh," Hermione huffed when he pressed until he was buried to the hilt deep inside of her, stretching her deliciously and making her whole body throb.

"Fucking hell, you're tight," he groaned before he pulled her mouth back to his, kissing her even hotter than before.

He set a hard pace then, snapping his hips, filling her over and over again. Hermione writhed against the wall, her fists gripping the thick locks of his long blond hair as she snogged him until she forgot her own name. Hermione lost herself in the feel of his cock so deep inside her; in the feel of his tongue stroking surely against hers; his arms tight around her slim frame. How her body managed another orgasm after the number of them she remembered enduring amid the torture she'd received at the hands of the Dark Lord, Hermione didn't know, but it crashed over her so suddenly that she jerked in Thorfinn's arms and he swallowed the scream that tore from her throat.

Only then did he break their kiss, chuckling sinfully as though he liked the way she came undone. As though he was going to make her do it again. A faint sound filled her ears as Hermione blinked her eyes open, trying to see beyond the stars that sparkled in her vision and beyond the pleasure roiling inside of her like a turbulent ocean amid a typhoon. He rutted her even faster, the slapping sound of wet flesh connecting almost drowning out what she was beginning to think was a growl.

She tried to work out if it was coming from somewhere nearby or from inside her own head. Twisting her head slightly, Hermione blinked the water from her eyes and tensed when she spotted someone leaning against the sink with his arms folded over his chest. His lips were curled back from teeth too sharp to be called anything other than fangs. His white-blond hair hung in his eyes slightly, drawing attention to their lupine gold shade.

Thorfinn stilled for a moment, turning his head from where he'd been kissing her neck and Hermione felt the way he tensed slightly at the sight of the irate werewolf in the bathroom with them. Hermione knew, on some level, that she ought to be trying to get down; ought to be telling Thorfinn to stop; ought to be feeling guilt and contrition over being caught shagging a wizard not Draco Malfoy or Rabastan Lestrange. But as she peered at the furious wizard who was watching them with one part fury, one part lust, Hermione couldn't find it in her to care.

Thorfinn's wickedly sinful chuckle sounded again as he resumed his hard, high pace, impaling her deeply on his cock as he hard-fucked her into the wall.

"Hello, Draco," he laughed as he continued fucking her, heedless of the way Draco's eyes showed the wolf and the way his hands were sporting bloodied claws like he meant to rip them both limb from limb.


	24. Chapter 24:Dissociation

**A/N: Yeah, so... it's been ages. I know. The plunny burrowed deep underground and didn't want to play. But it's back, I hope. Thanks for all the reviews. Pretty sure we cleared 2000 after I posted the last chapter. You're all so sweet and so generous with your love. I adore each and every one of you. I'm a bit nervous about sharing this chapter. It's not... let's just say that when I began it I had one thing in mind, and then SOMEONE came along and turned it into something else. I hope you like it. I know it's shorter than you're used to for this story, but don't worry, the next chapter is also begun and being drafted even as you read this. Much love!**

 **xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 24: Dissociation**

* * *

 _..."I know you got the best intentions,_

 _just trying to find the right words to say._

 _I promise I've already learned my lesson,_

 _but right now, I want to be not okay."..._

- **You Don't Know (Katelyn Tarver)**

* * *

"Don't look at me like that, kid," Thorfinn warned Draco when he snarled a little more ferociously, as though that alone would express his feelings on the matter of Hermione shagging the Viking wizard. "You don't own her yet and we've all got a little too much to gain from mind-blowing sex and its ability to distract from ugly recollections."

Hermione arched against the wizard as he continued shagging her even while Draco began stalking toward them. He looked like hell, if she was being honest. His platinum hair was streaked through with red that she didn't doubt was blood, along with a grey sort of tinge as though he'd gotten ash in it during the raids. He was shirtless too – or rather, he might as well have been. What little remained of his shirt hung in tatters as though he'd raked his own claws through the fabric, or as though he'd been fighting with the other werewolves.

He was covered in blood and fresh scratches too. Hermione frowned at him.

"Did I miss the full moon?" Hermione asked of the werewolf while the Viking wizard continued fucking her.

"Ah, shit," Thorfinn exclaimed, stilling against her once more. "No wonder the kids looks like hell. Draco, mate? You in your right mind, right now?"

He lowered Hermione back to the floor, lifting her off his cock and setting her on her feet before the werewolf could reach them.

"Mine!" Draco snarled when he was within reach, his hands - which still bore blood encrusted claws instead of human fingernails - shooting out to catch hold of Hermione's shoulder as though intent on tugging her toward him.

"Aye, she's yours, mate," Thorfinn agreed. "Or she will be when the Dark Lord's plans unfold. Until then, she's free to do as she likes. And I reckon she likes me."

"Mine!" Draco repeated.

"Share, you bloody git!" Thorfinn retorted, laughing at Draco's mindlessness in his possessive, moon-induced haze. "Mina, love? You don't mind being shared, do you?"

"Are you suggesting the two of you double me?" Hermione asked, one eyebrow arched in challenge when she met Thorfinn's gaze. Her pussy twitched when he smirked wickedly at her in return.

"You got a better idea?" he asked. "I'm not done with you, but I don't think Wolf-Boy here is too keen on voyeurism without participation."

"Mine!" Draco repeated. Hermione almost rolled her eyes at the mindless way he seemed to be stuck on that idea. She was thinking Draco was going to have to get used to the idea of sharing her with more than just Rabastan if she was going to get through this entire ordeal unscathed. And she didn't just mean the shower. One of the fastest ways to endear the other Death Eaters to her was through sex and if she could win over a few of them by shagging them - like she felt she was winning over Thorfinn Rowle - Hermione was thinking she'd be willing to do it. Her memory was hazy from the days she's spent doing the Dark Lord's bidding, but what she did remember far surpassed the idea of shagging a few people. She'd tortured people. Merlin's boots, she'd bloody killed people! What was mindless sex compared to that? Moreover, if the sex helped her to forget some of her heinous crimes, what was the harm?

Draco and Rabastan might not like it much, but if she was expected to be shared at Revels, they could get fucking used to the idea of sharing her with whomever she chose to shag when the mood struck her. Even if it wasn't one of them. She wasn't sure what Snape would have to say on the matter, of course, though she doubted he would approve. He'd specifically told her not to go making too many close alliances or friends with anyone outside of himself, Rabastan and Draco, and even then to be wary and careful about each interaction. The idea of forming anything of any kind with another Death Eater would likely annoy him and earn her a sound scolding just as soon as he reappeared. That being said, she had no way of even knowing if he was alive.

She also knew she ought to be trying to telepathically contact Remus to find out if he and the other members of the Order – her _real_ friends - had survived the raid. She needed to know if Harry and Ron had survived. Merlin, she needed to know how well Ron had handled his first full moon as a werewolf. She _really_ needed to talk to Remus if she wanted to find out, but he was likely as mindless as Draco right now, so that seemed out, and besides, right this minute there was sex to be had. Hermione wanted to have it and worry about everything else later.

"Yank him in, would you?" Rowle instructed, shifting slightly under the water and nodding at Draco, clearly planning on making sure the werewolf was clean before anymore shagging commenced.

Hermione did as she was told, pulling Draco by the hips until he'd squeezed into the shower cubicle along with them. It was a tight fit as she stripped him out of the tattered remains of his shirt before yanking his trousers down his legs. Rowle was big enough to make the generous space seem small all on his own, let alone adding an irate werewolf to the mix.

"You distract him while I try and get some of this filth off," Rowle told her, smirking when she had to squat at Draco's feet to remove his pants and toss them free of the shower before they clogged the drain and flooded the bathroom. She bumped his cock in the process, but he didn't seem to mind.

"You're going to bathe him?" Hermione asked, raising one eyebrow, thinking he didn't seem the type. When she glanced up to meet his gaze she nearly got both eyes poked out by the pair of cocks in close vicinity to her face and Hermione wondered if she would ever get used to the idea of seeing men naked, let alone coming face to face with all their glory on such a regular basis.

"Don't give me that look, witch," Thorfinn warned her when he caught her curious and amused expression over the idea of him bathing Draco like a lover. "Just distract him before he rips my throat out for touching you, alright? Let me worry about my own affairs, yeah?"

Hermione smirked at him and he narrowed his eyes on her in return before picking up the bar of soap and using it to lather Draco's blood-soaked skin. Having no idea when he'd last bathed, Hermione didn't much fancy the idea of performing oral sex on the werewolf and so her distraction of the grumpy sod came in the form of her fist wrapping around his rapidly hardening cock and pumping her hand up and down.

Draco stopped growling quite so much after that and Hermione blinked, looking up at Thorfinn when he nudged her with his knee, handing her the bar of soap and reaching for the shampoo bottle to do something about the blood in Draco's hair. The werewolf apparently enjoyed the attention, no matter where it was coming from when he was so mindless after the full moon and Hermione shook her head to herself, wondering what her friends would say if they could see her now. She could just imagine Harry's gobsmacked expression if he spotted her naked in the shower with two blond wizards, soaping one up even as she gave him a hand-job while the other straddled her from behind as she knelt on the shower floor to better wash Draco's hair. The git was poking her in the back of the head with his cock while he did it, too.

The idea of her friends seeing her this way tickled Hermione when she thought too much on the topic. Ron, she knew, would be furious, but for some reason the idea of having Harry spot her right at this moment amused Hermione a little bit too much and she began to giggle. The image of him dropping into that armchair at the Burrow to hide his bottom from the idea of anal sex sprang into her mind and Hermione almost choked when she drew in a gasping breath to laugh, inhaling water as she did so.

"Shut it, Princess," Thorfinn muttered, obviously thinking she was laughing at him because he was assisting her to bathe another man when he was such a he-man of a wizard that it seemed beyond comprehension that he'd ever be naked in the vicinity of another bloke.

"I wasn't aware you'd be so open minded, Rowle," Hermione told him.

"You didn't even know my name until half an hour ago. What would you know of my mind?" he challenged, making Draco garble out a half-drowned protest when he pulled the younger wizard under the spray and held him there until all the shampoo washed from his hair.

"I suppose I wouldn't," Hermione conceded, shrugging slightly and twisting between the two wizards until she could use both hands in tandem to bring them both pleasure. "Swing both ways, do you?"

"Not really," he grunted, his eyes briefly closing at the renewed stimulation as though he had to focus to remain bathing Draco rather than tunnelling his hands into her hair and begging her to suck him off. "You haven't been to a revel, yet, so I don't blame you for not understanding how things work among the brethren."

"I've heard tales of how wretched they are. Lust Potion, I'm told, is a key component."

Thorfinn shot her a dark look.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Among other things. With that shit in your system you don't tend to care so much who you're burying your cock inside of, to be honest. Do I prefer blokes? Nope. Have I fucked a few? Unfortunately."

"Have you fucked Draco?" Hermione asked curiously, wondering if he would tell her; if he'd done so.

"Not yet," Thorfinn admitted. "More time I spend with the lot of you, though, and I'd say it'll end up happening eventually. Welcome to be a fucking Death Eater."

He was frowning as he said so, his tone bitter and heavy with sarcasm, and Hermione wondered if he didn't enjoy being a Death Eater all that much, like Draco didn't, or if he was fishing to find out how loyal she might be to the cause when she was still such a new recruit. Especially since she was female and therefore much more liable to be raped at any given moment in the presence of the brethren should her fellows forget to fear her own quick wand and ruthlessness, and should they overlook Snape's likelihood to come to her defence.

"And such a delight it's proving to be," Hermione agreed with him quietly.

They all looked up at the sound of the bathroom door being thrown open with enough force that it banged off the wall and Hermione squinted, cursing when she got shampoo in her eye. Severus Snape looked like absolute hell when he stalked into the bathroom with all the dramatic flair of an avenging angel. He was covered from head to foot in blood and ash and what looked suspiciously like gore. Hermione frowned, paling when he began to strip out of his robes, apparently having just returned from raiding.

He stopped, mid-unbuttoning, at the sight of the three of them inside the shower.

"Out!" he barked, his eyes sweeping over the scene and glittering with annoyance and no small degree of anger.

"Papa?" Hermione asked, frowning at him and standing quickly, finding herself sandwiched between Draco and Thorfinn.

"Out! Out of my fucking shower. Now! Rowle, take Draco to the Manor and give him a Sleeping Potion before he passes out when his humanity resurfaces," he snarled, looking very much like he wanted to murder them all just for existing.

She wondered what it said about Snape that despite being mid-coitus – Hermione's hand still on both of their cocks – and despite Draco being practically brain-dead, both wizards jumped to obey his commands. They didn't argue; they didn't try to offer an alternative idea; they didn't goad him; they didn't even speak. They both simply exited the shower without a word or even a look in her direction, and held still when Snape flicked his wand to dry them both; leaving Hermione standing there, dripping and a bit confused.

Not that she didn't understand why they complied. It was Snape's house, they both believed she was Snape's daughter, and they both obviously knew of his foul temper and his vindictive nature. They didn't want to risk antagonising the man – especially not after three hard days of raiding when he was liable to slaughter them where they stood for simply breathing too loud. Hermione didn't even want to imagine how deep inside of himself he'd had to bury his humanity and she wondered if any of it had resurfaced yet or if maybe she needed to be on her guard, too.

"Papa, really?" Hermione sighed, pretending exasperation rather than feeling the exhaustion rushing up to engulf her when – still naked – Thorfinn steered Draco towards the doorway of the bathroom before Disapparating them both with a sharp crack.

Snape eyed her for a long moment like he was still considering murdering her and Hermione put her hands on her hips, raising her eyebrows in silent challenge. She was in no mood for bullshit, no matter where his humanity had taken a hike to, and she didn't at all fancy the idea of duelling him, but neither was she in the mood to just lie down and take his abuse.

"Where the bloody hell have you _been_ , Miss Granger?" he hissed dangerously, returning his attention to his robes as he continued stripping once more, now that their guests had left.

Not entirely sure she wanted to be stuck in the enclosed space of the shower cubicle when he was so obviously volatile, not to mention annoyed, Hermione turned off the taps and reached for her towel, moving over to stand on the bathmat by the sink instead. She sighed heavily as she did so, her body feeling heavy and her mind sluggish, as though the exertion of simply existing was too much after however long she'd been running on nothing but adrenaline, fear, and an utter lack of humanity.

"Honestly?" Hermione asked. "I'm not really sure, sir. According to Rowle, I came at him out of the fire at Morgana's Fields sometime last night, leading a string of witches by the hand, before I put them all on a portkey and then latched onto him and brought him here."

"You fucked him?" Snape demanded, peeling open his robes when he managed to unbutton his many buttons, revealing the white undershirt her wore. Hermione grimaced at the sight when she noticed that, much as her own clothing had been, his were dripping with blood. She didn't even want to think about whose it might be.

"I think so," Hermione nodded, regretting the action when the movement made her head ache dully in a way reminiscent of a hangover. She supposed that if she'd been raiding and murdering and slaughtering people for three days straight without recall, she might not have bothered to stop at any point and hydrate herself.

"You _think_ so?" Snape demanded, his brow furrowing with both concern and anger, if she was reading his face correctly. It was a little more difficult than usual – and already a tough job – because much like his clothing, his skin was covered with blood and gore. Indeed, much of it had dried and begun flaking off. Hermione suspected he must be very itchy.

"I don't remember much," Hermione admitted, shrugging her shoulders with another sigh, hoping he wasn't about to lecture her. She'd been very much for the idea of shagging away her troubles and didn't fancy hashing them out and thinking in depth about her actions over the past few days. She just wanted to soar through an orgasm or two – enough to exhaust her so that she could sleep for a week and forget all about the horror she'd witnessed and the heinous things she had done. "All I can recall are snippets and flashes. I didn't know it had been three days since the Ministry until Rowle told me just now in the shower before Draco arrived. I remember the torture at the Manor and being ordered to hunt down the Order. Lots of snippets after that. Blood. Murder. Torture. So much death… but I don't know where I've been and couldn't tell you the names of anyone I killed. I know I put several people out of their misery after they were left broken by the others, but that's about it."

Snape eyed her for a long time, finally managing to peel himself out of his clothing, dropping his robes to the floor, stripping naked and climbing into the shower without taking his eyes off her. He seemed morbidly curious as he watched her and Hermione wondered if she would win any points with him for the fact that she was too tired to even trace her eyes over his naked form as he moved.

"You…don't remember?" he frowned slightly, looking almost as though he were torn between being worried for her and perhaps, not believing her.

"Rowle called it a Berserker state. Said something about the magic ruling and thus, not remembering. Felt like my humanity shut off. I suspect it might be more along the lines of dissociative amnesia, if I'm being honest. I might've discovered a little Bad wolf inside myself, but we both know that at my core, I'm a good girl. And good girls don't murder or brutalise others. Goods girls don't torture. My conscience can't reconcile what my brain knows I did, so it's being repressed. Poorly, based on the snippets slipping through. But that's not the point. Is… how bad is it out there, Severus?" Hermione asked fearfully, leaning against the sink with her towel wrapped around her like it might hold her together should he deliver bad news. "Did we… is the Order safe? Is Harry alive?"

She held her breath as he turned the faucets, the hot water spraying down over him and making the water run red as the blood dripped from his skin. He didn't answer for so long that Hermione's eyes filled with tears, fearful that he didn't know how to break it to her that her friends were all dead and the war was lost.

"I am… uncertain," he admitted finally. "I have been unable to contact Lupin – what with the full moon. Then again, this was Weasley's first full moon, so Merlin only knows if they're both even alive. They might've killed each other."

Hermione paled, realising she'd almost forgotten about Ron being bitten. She'd forgotten that last night he'd have endured the harrowing transformation and the terrible agony of the lycanthropic curse. She felt even worse to realise that she'd been so lost inside her own head, committing heinous acts, that she hadn't even remembered that the boy she loved would be suffering in agony.

"Oh, Gods," Hermione muttered. "You don't think they…"

"It is unlikely that they'd have killed one another, though I suspect injuries abound for the pair of them, wherever they are. As for Potter… I can only assume that he is alive. If he had been killed by any among the Death Eater ranks they would be punished. As you know, the Dark Lord has claimed the right to murder the boy himself and any who touch him will pay with their life. As the Dark Lord was _not_ jubilant and cheerful when I left him to return here and bathe, I suspect he will have survived. The rest of the Order… it is unclear. We raided for three days, Miss Granger. I suspect, by the end, they were aware of our violence and that they were fighting us."

"How many are dead?" Hermione asked.

"From amid the Order?" he asked. "I have no way of knowing."

"I meant in general," Hermione clarified. "I… Rowle said something about slaughtering all the muggles in the western end of London. He said hundreds of thousands of people are dead?"

Snape's head jerked up, his dark eyes clashing with her own bloodshot pair and Hermione simply _knew_.

It was true.

She felt ill.

Her knees hit the tiles, but she didn't register the pain as she grappled for the toilet, vomiting up bile.

"How?" she choked when her stomach cramping after the third heave when there was nothing more to come up.

"Fiendfyre, mostly," Snape admitted, his voice devoid of any emotion whatsoever. "As you know, it's a difficult spell to control at the best of times. Death Eaters out of their mind with anger, pain, and grief – all of whom were given license to wreak absolute havoc – were uninterested in bothering with control. We had word that there was a safe-house for some of the Order's sympathizers hiding there. Some of us went to find out and things…. Got out of hand."

Hermione heaved again, the motion turning to a shriek of pain at the way it pulled at already abused muscles and the way it ached deep inside her soul. She recognised that particular ache as a compounded sting upon the already ripped part of her soul that bore Charles Torball's name and the Dark Lord's magic. That part of her was the fracture, broken, tattered remnants left behind when she committed the brutal and vile act of murder.

"Out of hand?" she choked. "Literally hundreds of thousands of muggles were killed, Snape! I'd call that a little bit more extreme that ' _out of hand'_! Our world is exposed!"

"We were already exposed," Snape sighed, scrubbing one hand over his face under the water to better remove the blood upon his flesh. "The Dark Lord's reign of terror has been effective at shattering the Statute of Secrecy. It was actually, potentially, a good thing that this happened. Such a large scale loss of life points toward a more logical reason than magic. The muggles will call it a terrible tragedy – a gas leak or an explosion in the Tube system, or some other, normal reason for mass death. They won't immediately think 'wizards'."

Hermione vomited again at how positively blasé he sounded about the entire thing.

"How can you… just… shrug it off?" Hermione wanted to know. "Hundreds of thousands of people are dead. Innocent people who had no part in this and didn't sign up to die just because some twat-waffle with a God-complex is furious over his failure to achieve immortality!"

Snape looked over at her when he finished scrubbing his face, his expression still carefully blank and devoid of any emotion. A chill ran down Hermione's spine to know that he truly had buried his humanity so deeply that it might be gone for good. He looked like he didn't care. Couldn't care. He looked like the idea of emotions was a foreign concept he had to grasp of. Hermione shook her head slowly in denial, in horror, in utter terror.

Was this to be her future?

"If you allow yourself to be so affected, Miss Granger, then you will go mad," he informed her coolly. "Have I not yet taught you that the things you must do and the things you see are all beyond reprehension? Have I failed to remind you that you agreed to this? You had your chance to walk away and you didn't take it."

"Bullshit!" Hermione hissed, staggering to her feet to point an accusing finger at him. "I suggested that you just let me go back to the Order and you refused. You wanted to follow Dumbledore's orders and drag me into this mess _knowing_ it would destroy me and you didn't care one iota that it would affect me this way."

Snape's lips twisted into a cruel smile.

"Did you imagine, after you were branded, when I sent you on back to the Burrow, that it was merely a means to deliver them Wolfsbane potion?" he asked cruelly. "Did you think I just wanted you to suffer in the knowledge that taking the Dark Mark changed you as surely as fire changes everything it comes into contact with? Did you think it wasn't a test?"

Hermione blinked at him, her brow furrowing further.

"I don't understand," she shook her head.

"You had your chance to walk away," he said. "You were right there in the Burrow. You could've stayed. You could've run. You could've chosen any other life for yourself but the path of a double-agent Death Eater. I gave you a way to get out of this, Miss Granger. And you returned."

"As though the Dark Lord wouldn't have hunted me down?" she challenged. "I know he can track us via these."

She flung her arm in his direction, showing the ugly black stain of the Dark Mark upon her pale flesh. Today it leaked no ink from its surface. Today it was raised and almost pulsing with the power that so much blatant murder had granted it.

"Some still run," Snape shrugged. "You are powerful enough and clever enough to have found a way to cloak its effects – to purge it from your system – to end its control over you. You could have left this life behind."

"How?" Hermione demanded, clawing against the sink to pull herself to her feet without ceasing the glare she levelled at him. "You _know_ how it felt to stand in their presence and feel dirty. You know how it feels to know what you know and do as you've done, only to return to the company of those you _don't_ understand. How could I have stayed?"

"You could have run. You had a choice, Miss Granger. I let you go knowing you might throw a wrench in Dumbledore's plans for you; I insisted to him that this had to be your choice, as surely as taking the mark is a choice for _all_ Death Eaters."

"You didn't give me a choice about taking the Mark," Hermione argued.

"I gave you a choice about living up to its promise," he retorted coldly. "And you made it. Do not presume to stand there and squawk or sob over that which you have done. You chose this. You returned. You could have gone anywhere in the world after you were Marked. And yet I found you crying on a swing in Spinner's End, waiting to be found and led back down this devil's pit. You made that decision and you will live with it for the rest of your days. No matter how numbered they might be."

Hermione felt sick and her bottom lips trembled, tears stinging her eyes as they spilled over to run down her cheeks. He was right and she knew it. She could have run. She couldn't have stayed with the Order, but she didn't have to come back, either. She'd done it for them. She done it for him. She'd done it for any number of reasons that meant the Dark Lord's reign of terror might end. She'd done it knowing that things would only get worse, before they could get better.

But she'd done it, nonetheless

Unable to stand the sight of him when he looked at her without pity, without remorse, and without sympathy, Hermione tightened her towel around herself, squared her shoulders, and left the room. She didn't see the way Snape's head shook ever so slightly from side to side. She didn't see the way one of his fists clenched against the urge to call her back and offer her comfort. She didn't see the glitter of sadness in his obsidian eyes as she went.

All she saw was her own anger, her own remorse, and her own self-disgust. For now, it would have to be enough.


	25. Chapter 25: Accumulation

**A/N: Merlin, I'd forgotten how much _fun_ it is to write this story. Thank you all so much for your continued support. More frequent updates moving forward, I hope. **

**xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Fervidity**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 25: Accumulation**

* * *

 _"...The law ain't ever been a friend of mine,_

 _I would kill again to keep from doing time,_

 _you should never ever trust my kind._

 _I'm a wanted man. I got blood on my hands..."_

 **I'm a Wanted Man (Royal Delux)**

* * *

Hermione spent the entire day following their raids wallowing. She was so exhausted that she slept for most of it, but when she wasn't sleeping, she was wallowing in the guilt over what she'd done. Her good wolf, having resurfaced with a vengeance, paced restlessly, wanting her to do something to help restore balance to the world. She couldn't get in touch with Remus, despite her best efforts. Every time she tried to communicate with him via their pack bond, all she got in reply was nonsensical growling and a jumbled tangle of images that presented rather like flashes of memory, only they all came through in black and white. She suspected that, like Draco, he might be back to being human in form, but his mind was still struggling to push the wolf back into his cage so that his humanity could resurface.

And without access to speaking with Remus, she had no way of knowing if Harry, Ron, or any of her loved ones had survived the raids. She had no way of knowing what had become of her friends, and the guilt and the worry almost drove her mad. Eventually, unable to take the guilt and the silence anymore, Hermione made her was to the basement where the practice dummy stood innocently looking like Bella. Hermione took her frustration out of the wretched thing with a vengeance.

All manner of curses fell from her lips ranging from the Unforgiveable curses to the entrails-expelling curses and other terrible things that destroyed the dummy again and again. She lost track of how long she stood there, flinging hexes at the dummy only to have it spring up over and over, whole once more, just so she could curse it again. By the time she noticed Snape's presence, she was breathing hard and tears were running down her face with the frustration and the exhaustion and the wretched, aching throb inside her soul from all the new splits thanks to the many lives she had taken.

When Hermione looked over at him, he was leaning in the doorway, his shoulder propped against the frame, his body clad in his usual black. His hair hung in dark curtains and Hermione tried to bite her lip on her sob as she met his gaze. She was miserable, and she didn't like letting him see it.

She didn't like feeling weak in front of him and she didn't like letting him see that this was messing with her head when he'd endured so much worse. He'd been at this for more than twenty years. She'd only been doing it less than a month and already she was so tired and felt so broken that she was sure she wouldn't make it out of this war alive. She wasn't even sure she wanted to.

Sighing as a tear trickled down her face, Hermione wiped at it angrily.

"How do you do it?" she asked him quietly, too tired to keep decimating the practice dummy.

"Do what?" he asked, raising one eyebrow while he continued to watch her with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

"Live like this?" Hermione said. "This… wretched ache in my soul and this horrid feeling in my stomach. How do the rest of you live with it? Is it always like this?"

Snape's mouth twisted.

"Yes," he nodded. "It never goes away."

"Then how do I survive?" Hermione wanted to know. "How am I supposed to go on when I can't stand who I've become? How do you do it?"

"Why do you think I'm so wretched and cruel, Mina?" he asked sardonically. "I project the wretchedness inside of me onto everyone I encounter."

"But not everyone is like you," she frowned. "Rabastan and Draco and the others, they're cruel, and some of them are mean, but not like you."

She didn't worry about offending him as she said so. He knew he was a cruel bastard most of the time, she was sure. She might've seen other sides of him, but most of the time he was mean and cruel and a right git.

"We all have our ways of coping," Severus shrugged. "Your new friend Thorfinn tends to deal with his poison by burying it under a blanket of pleasure. He fucks around and seeks pleasure anywhere he can find it. Rabastan tends to drown what little is left of his humanity – and it's the humanity inside you that is aching that way – in the bottom of a whiskey bottle. Some, like Bellatrix, no longer feel the pain. The humanity inside her is gone and she has nothing left to rip when she commits such heinous acts. She might still have feelings, and a soul, but she has no humanity."

"And Draco?" Hermione asked.

"Drinks too much. Needs your help to follow in Rowle's footsteps and bury more of it in pleasure. It's the safest method for dealing with it. It won't ever go away, but it will lessen if you surround yourself with good things to balance out the bad."

"You told me _not_ to shag around too much," Hermione reminded him, frowning as he carefully crossed the room toward her and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, heedless of how sweaty she was from fighting the dummy.

"I told you not to shag every Death Eater in the ranks," he corrected. "I'd prefer it if you were only fucking Draco and Rabastan, but it seems it's not meant to be."

"What about you?" she asked.

His lips twitched at her question. "You weren't supposed to be fucking me, Miss Granger. That came about by your request due to your inexperience. You and I were supposed to maintain a mentor/student relationship."

Hermione frowned at him. "You'd have really never…"

She trailed off, realising as she began asking the question that she wasn't entirely sure she actually wanted to know the answer. She didn't think she could take it right now to be told that he'd never have laid a finger on her and that he had no interest in fucking her. She didn't want to know that he was probably only doing it for her benefit; one more thing on the long lists of acts he'd been forced to commit for the sake of the war and the role her played within it.

His lips twitched when she blushed and frowned. "I expect that, with time, I'd have ended up fucking you, regardless," he informed her softly. "Though whether by your request or by mine, or simply by some ill-fated expression of all this poison, it's unclear."

"You don't… begrudge me for asking for your help?" Hermione asked quietly, trying to read his face and loathing that he was so skilled at making his features sit blank.

"Does any man begrudge sex, Miss Granger?" he chuckled.

"Maybe the asexual ones," she suggested, and Severus snorted in amusement.

"Perhaps they do," he inclined his head. "Do you mean to spend the rest of the day wallowing?"

"Did you have something else in mind?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"It would behove you to be seen interacting with the others, once more," he nodded. "And would benefit you to distract yourself from the aches in your soul after the raids. I expect there will be a meeting this evening to discuss the effects of the raids."

"Is there any word yet, on whether any of the Order were killed in the crossfire?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows at him, the worry of not knowing what had become of her friends eating at her soul. "I haven't been able to reach Remus. Every time I try, all I get is growls."

"As do I," Severus sighed. "The effects of the recent full moon in addition to the added problem of having Weasley transforming alongside him. They may very well have killed each other – _if_ Weasley lived long enough to even see the full moon."

"You believe there is some reason he might not have?" Hermione asked, her voice tight.

Severus sighed heavily.

"When you attended the Burrow with their Wolfsbane after you received your Mark, you were seen. Regulus took care of those who'd been watching the house, but it's location was well-known. One of the first places the brethren attacked when we left London was the Burrow."

"Oh, no," Hermione whispered, her eyes flooding with tears.

"The second was Grimmauld Place. It's why so much of London was destroyed. Unable to penetrate the wards guarding the townhouse, the Death Eaters unleashed Finedfyre, believing that if everything around it was burning, the house would not survive."

"Did it?" she asked, her throat tight.

"Yes," Severus answered in a low voice. "Fortunately, the muggles can't see it, else they could have questions as to why one house remains when everything else is charred rubble."

"The Order?" she asked.

"Scattered, I imagine," Severus admitted. "I recall going up against Bill Weasley sometimes late last night."

"Did you kill him?" Hermione whispered, tears running down her cheeks, unchecked.

"No," Severus whispered, his brow furrowed. "He fled, along with a rag-tag team of other Order members. I believe that if they have gone anywhere, the survivors will have gone to Hogwarts. It is the only stronghold left that they would be able to hide inside until the siege passes."

"Will it ever pass?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Severus nodded. "The Dark Lord's fury is spent. At least for now. He will regroup. Potter survived. That much is clear."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked.

Severus's lips twisted hatefully. "We would not be standing here, having this conversation, if he had not, Hermione. The Dark Lord would throw a revel the likes which would shame all others before it. If the time ever comes that Potter falls, the world will fall into Darkness."

"What will happen now?" Hermione asked, frowning at the desolate prediction.

"Other wizarding nations will get involved," Severus said. "Up until now they have stayed out of it, but for the recruitment of some followers from the continent. MCUSA and the other organisations governing the wizarding nations within other parts of the world will be forced to step in. This exposure – this destruction of the Statute of Secrecy - will draw them all here. They will ready their armies. They will put a stop to the Dark Lord alongside the Order."

"How?" she asked.

"We are not so many as to fight off the international wizarding population, Miss Granger," Snape told her. "Some will view it as a means to overthrow the government elsewhere, and to rise up against the muggles. But most will seek to end the Dark Lord's reign of terror by any means necessary."

"And us?" she asked.

"We will all be in hiding," Severus informed her. "The Dark Lord knows that internationals will be coming for the brethren. He will seek to evade them. Those prisoners he has taken will be bred and the entire operation will go to ground. This was not in his plan. He wanted to overthrow the Ministry quietly and to defeat Potter and end the Order. He wanted to manipulate the rest of the world to seeing things his way. That cannot happen now. We are exposed, and we are vilified. He will order us all to regroup and to take stock. Now, the insidious part of his plans will be set into motion. He has his prisoners, and he has call to keep us all busy and out of the public eye. Now, the breeding begins."

Hermione felt like she might be sick all over again, tracing her eyes over his face and seeing that he was serious and that he was worried.

"What of you and I?" she asked in a low voice.

His lips twitched like he wanted to curl them back from his teeth in fury.

"You will be expected to begin breeding, alongside the rest," he told her. "A time for hiding is a perfect time for ensuring the next generation is secure. His remaining Horcruxes will be well guarded, and I'm afraid that until we destroy the Cup, there will be no end. You will need to marry Rabastan, and to gain his trust enough to be granted access to the Lestrange vault. Nagini will be kept with the Dark Lord at all times. Until they are destroyed, the horror will continue."

"I'm barely even eighteen," she whispered. "I'm not ready for marriage, or children. I don't even like children."

"None of us do," Snape snorted.

"Won't the contraception potion you gave me stave it off, for a while longer?"

"Yes," Severus nodded. "And your ingestion of it took place before we knew of the Dark Lord's plans, so you will not be punished for it. But after that, you will not be able to take more."

He looked at her seriously, tracing his eyes over her face as though worried for her wellbeing and Hermione blinked when he reached out and carefully wiped the tears from her damp face. She was surprised by the amount of concern in his eyes, and Hermione suspected that for all that it had been in the plan to have her wedded to and breeding with Death Eaters, he'd hoped to stave those things off for a good long while first.

"Is there no other way to get in and to steal the cup from the Lestrange vault?" she asked. "Surely we could bribe a goblin to take us."

Snape shook his head. "They would never do it. They prefer to stay out of wizarding matters and maintain their moral superiority as not being thieves or aiding in theft of something they've been entrusted with."

"All of them?" she asked. "Surely there must be one, _somewhere_ , that would be willing to sacrifice that to put an end to this mess. Especially after the last three days."

Severus shook his head. "It is not up to us to determine if there is or there isn't. I will mention it to Remus when he regains his faculties and see if there is a way to manage it. But until then, we must play our roles. And yours is to be an adored witch among the Death Eater ranks, the wife of Rabastan Lestrange and Draco Malfoy, and the mother of their children."

"And your role?" she asked. "Will you be expected to breed thanks to this mess?"

Severus shrugged his shoulders. "The Dark Lord believes I have already provided an heir to fill my spot in the ranks when I am gone. He will not ask me to begin siring children when he thinks that I will be becoming a grandfather when you fall pregnant."

"Then what will he expect you to do?" she asked.

"Oversee the reconstruction of a new Ministry, I imagine. And the construction of an alternative teaching facility for magical students. After all, we took many children hostage. They must still be educated. I imagine a school will be constructed and I will be asked to be Headmaster, just as he intended for me to be Headmaster at Hogwarts. The children he means for all of us to begin siring will need to be taught, after all. The Dark Lord does not suffer fools for long and as he expects to live forever, I imagine he would like those who will one day fill our shoes to have at least enough grasp over their magic not to make things explode at the drop of a hat."

"He means to… split the Wizarding world. To truly be Lord over all of it and for life to go on with him in charge?" she asked, frowning heavily.

"Oh, yes. The Dark Lord has always intended for his reign to be supreme, but what use is being a Dark Lord if you've no one to lord it over? He requires subjects."

"Isn't that what the Death Eaters are?" she asked.

"No," Severus shook his head. "We are his soldiers. His army. His enforcers to ensure his rule is unchallenged."

"So, we just… what?" she asked, frowning at him in confusion, trying to make sense of what he was telling her. "Go about our lives as though we aren't routinely destroying those of others? All those women we took prisoner will be routinely raped and forced to have children with men they loathe. Worse, the children they carry will be ripped from their arms the minute they're born and handed over to other women to raise. And we just… allow it?"

"We have no choice," Snape shrugged. "We must do our duty to take the Dark Lord down. For you, that means marriage, babies, and eventually, the robbery of Gringotts."

"And until then?" she asked. "That might take years!"

Severus nodded.

"Until then, we do whatever we can to make sure that as many magical lives make it through the coming months and years. It would behove you to stick your hand up as a volunteer to better control the means with which the breeding program is carried out."

"Meaning?" Hermione frowned.

"Currently, the Dark Lord's plan is simply to get children from these women. But wanton rape will eventually lead to inbreeding, and thus, thickheadedness. If a witch were willing to monitor and control the way in which the prisoners are 'serviced' under the pretence of guarding against abuse, overuse, and inbreeding, the entire process would be smoother. Right now, the Dark Lord will allow whomever wants to fuck any witch, to do so. That means that I could go into any cell in any of the strongholds, fuck a witch, and potentially get her pregnant. She might carry to term, deliver the child, and be allowed to be raped all over again, but, for example, Rabastan. That would mean that Rabastan's child and my child would be half-siblings by the same mother. Should that happen with all of the witches in those cells, we will end up, in a single generation, with a collection of half-siblings, crippling the gene pool considerably.

"But, if you were point this fact out, and were to suggest that you be allowed to monitor who fucks who, and who breeds with who, you would be able to protect those women – to an extent – from being raped by every member of the brethren, and from being brutalized while pregnant. The Dark Lord will not want imbeciles for the following generation, and without care, they will all be born related to some extent, and might be defective if the mothers are continually raped even whilst pregnant."

"You want _me_ to monitor it?" she asked, feeling ill.

"You _need_ to help, Miss Granger. I can see it in your eyes. You have been standing in this room murdering that dummy for hours, muttering to yourself and trying to resist the urge to seek out the Order, or to storm Malfoy Manor alone to empty all of those cells. You will not be able to sit idly by, pregnant yourself and otherwise bored out of your mind. You will need ways to feed your good wolf. Let this be one of them?"

"You want me to stand there and watch these poor women be raped?"

"I want you to realise they will be raped, either way. _You_ can ensure they are only raped by certain people, at certain times, and that they have _someone_ speaking on their behalf. You cannot save them," he said in a low voice, looking resigned. "But you _can_ lessen their suffering. And for now, that will have to do."

"They will hate me," she whispered.

"Yes," Severus nodded.

"The brethren will hate me too, if I'm all that's standing in their way from letting them fuck whomever they like," she argued.

"Yes," he said again. "But the Dark Lord will adore you. If you show that you are thinking about the future of his reign, he will be pleased with you. Currently, he is likely to still be furious with you when someone reminds him that you, Draco, and Rabastan were late to the Ministry battle because you were too busy shagging. You need to endear yourself to him to ensure your continued safety, lest you end up in a cell beside all those we have taken prisoner."

Hermione stared into his face, wondering how his mind could even function to think of such things when she was so overcome with horror at their very suggestion. She couldn't stand the thought of what he meant for her to do and she couldn't stand the idea of having to stand around, blank-faced, without trying to kill the Dark Lord for all he had done. He might still have Horcruxes out there that need to be destroyed, and she might be playing a pivotal role in accessing one of them, but surely it would be better to kill him as he was in his current body, and to murder this bit of him that lived in that wretched form, than to allow him to continue to run free.

Snape, clearly using Legilimency, smiled sadly.

"A fine idea," he muttered. "Except for the fact that without him to lead them, the Death Eaters will turn on each other viciously and instate whomever is strongest and most powerful – probably Bella or perhaps Dolohov – and they will be far less interested in rebuilding a wizarding world under their control and far more interested in simply committing murder. He might be evil, and he might be twisted and cruel and a complete bastard, but the Dark Lord is currently the only thing standing between the truly feral Death Eaters that flesh out the ranks, and the rest of the world."

"The Dark Lord and the Order," she pointed out.

"Depending on how many of them survived," Severus sighed.

"We need to find out," she said.

"I know," he nodded.

"How?" she asked. "If Remus is in no state, there must be another way?"

" _You_ will go to Malfoy Manor," he told her. "Your absence has been noticed since you disappeared with Rowle the night before last."

"What about you?" she asked, frowning and not at all pleased to think that the brethren were keeping tabs on her.

"I was there last night, meeting with the Dark Lord. I told him you were indisposed, and Rowle verified that you had been with him since your disappearance before relinquishing you to me, until I left you – sleeping – to attend last night's meeting. You must go there today and let it be known that you are in good health and still 'loyal' to the cause. He will be expecting to see you soon, or he will grow suspicious."

"And you'll contact the Order while I'm busy?" she asked.

Severus nodded.

"As a member of staff, I should still be able to gain access to Hogwarts to see who is there and find out who survived."

"They'll attack you on sight," she pointed out. "It would be better if I went."

"Perhaps," he nodded. "But the immediate Order including Lupin, Potter, and the Weasleys, by now know that I am still loyal to the Order, no matter the appearances. I will check in, and then I will join you at Malfoy Manor."

"What am I do to there?" she asked. "If Remus is still unresponsive, I suppose Draco is, as well."

"Check on him, regardless. You have a job to do of endearing these people to you, Miss Granger. And you must speak with the Dark Lord about your role to monitor the breeding program."

"You think he will listen to me?" Hermione asked. "He thinks I'm just a silly sixteen-year-old kid."

"He _thinks_ that you are my daughter, and that you are wicked to your core," Snape corrected her. "He _thinks_ that you are a loyal Death Eater with a point to prove to ensure your growing esteem in his eyes. You must be seen to be thinking of the cause and you must be seen trying to please him."

"Gods, you're not going to make me… shag him… are you?" Hermione asked, curling her lip when she saw the way he was eyeing her.

"Not if I can help it," he said tightly, and Hermione wondered what to make of the way his eyes flashed dangerously at the very thought.

"So, I'm to go to Malfoy Manor, then?" she asked, frowning.

Snape nodded slowly, tilting his head to one side as he continued to look at her. She couldn't put her finger on what he might be thinking when he looked at her like that, and she wasn't sure what he wanted from her.

"What?" Hermione asked, blinking at him curiously.

Almost affectionately, he reached out and smoothed both hands across her cheeks, wiping away the tear tracks from their discussion and Hermione blinked at him when he cupped her cheeks carefully, his gaze unwavering as he looked at her. She held her breath, her eyes darting to his lips, knowing he'd told her he didn't like to kiss on the mouth, but wondering if he might kiss her, just the same. He looked at her with such intensity that she was sure he might do so.

Licking her lips, Hermione tried to tamp down the way butterflies fluttered in her tummy at the very thought of kissing him. His eyes were drawn to the movement and he stared at her lips so intently that they tingled. Hermione slid her feet closer to him, wanting to touch him, wanting him to take her mind off the wretchedness inside her soul. She wanted the distraction and she was sure that he could do with it, too.

Before she could do more than smooth her fingers across his torso, he stepped back, lowering his hands and moving out of her reach.

"Be sure to dress appropriately to meet with the brethren. You will need to Floo over, and to offer the excuse that I am brewing something delicate to buy me enough time to seek out the Order," he said and Hermione would swear that he'd just flipped the switch of his humanity and his emotions once more, a veil coming down behind his eyes and locking whatever thoughts he'd had behind it, leaving her with a tingle in her lips and a flutter in her tummy and a vague sense of confused longing.

"Right," she muttered. "Um… I suppose I'll be fucking someone today?"

"Not me," he smirked at her.

"Pity," Hermione heard herself mutter as she stepped around him, intending to climb the stairs to her room where she could change.

"Indeed," he agreed quietly from behind her and Hermione looked over her shoulder, meeting his gaze in surprise at the agreement.

He stared at her for a moment, his dark eyes unfathomable, before nodding his head that she should face forward, lest she trip.

"You're upset with me?" she asked, frowning as she hurried up the steps.

"I've no cause to be," he denied.

Hermione noticed that while that might be true, it didn't negate that he _was_ upset with her about something. Clearly, he had no intention of sharing what it was, either. Sighing, Hermione resigned herself to letting him have his secrets and she climbed the stairs from the basement to the living room and then the stairs toward her bedroom.

Snape followed her and Hermione pulled her shirt off over her head when she reached her bedroom, uncaring if he saw her naked. Truthfully, she wouldn't mind seducing him to better take her mind off her wretchedly aching soul, but she knew it would be a bad idea. No matter how good it might feel, she'd have to shower after, lest Draco smelled the scent of him all over her. Then again, she supposed she'd need to shower regardless. She'd been down in the basement for hours today, and had spent all of yesterday after her shower wallowing in her pain, sleeping, and feeling wretched.

She didn't imagine it would be very pleasant of her to go before the Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters smelling ripe and looking like she'd been suffering.

"Are you busy?" she asked, turning toward Snape where he leaned in the doorway watching her.

"I need to get going to seek out the Order," he nodded.

Hermione traced her eyes over him, watching the way his eyes darted to her bare breasts before he met her gaze seriously.

"You don't want to shag before you go?"

"You need less sex," he told her, though his lips twitched.

"You're encouraging me to go to Malfoy Manor, where I will – undoubtedly – end up having sex with _someone_ ," she reminded him.

"All the more reason that you should get going to do so, rather than shagging me," he pointed out. "Your body needs time to heal. You were a practically untouched but a week ago. Now you've shagged five different men in a variety of ways that aren't actually conducive to your comfort or wellbeing."

"Five?" she frowned. "There's only been you, Draco, Rabastan, and Thorfinn."

"And Weasley before us," he reminded her. "Five."

"Oh…. Well, it's not like my number isn't going to grow when the time to attend a revel rolls around," she said. "I still need to be able to brace for when that happens."

"A quickie with me right now won't help you there."

"I'd have to shower before going to the Manor, anyway," she pointed out, suddenly really wanting to shag him.

"I need to go, Mina," he said, though he looked slightly flattered by her arguments to be allowed to fuck him right then.

"Are you upset with me?" she frowned. "I kind of thought you'd shag me yesterday when you kicked the others out of the bathroom… unless… are you getting funny about this because I'm now also shagging Draco, Bass, and probably Thorfinn again, too?"

"You imagine I care who else might shag a witch if I'm interested in shagging her?" he arched an eyebrow at her.

"To be honest I always kind of thought you'd be the possessive type with a woman and wouldn't like the idea of other men even talking to her, let alone touching her," Hermione admitted, tipping her head and eyeing him curiously.

"I was," he allowed, his brow furrowing. "A long time ago. Now… well…" he shrugged his shoulders and Hermione had the feeling that he'd stopped caring.

"Well… I suppose it's for the best you're not. I imagine people would ask questions if I suddenly stopped shagging the others and told Draco and Bass to buzz off with their marriage notion to be shagging you… What with them all thinking you're my Dad, and all…"

She trailed off when he tipped his head to one side, eyeing her shrewdly for a long minute in silence. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him, wishing she knew what was going on inside his head.

"Would you?" he asked.

"Would I what?" Hermione frowned.

"Tell the others to fuck off, if that was what I wanted?"

Had her eyebrows not already been arched, she was sure they'd have shot to her hairline and she blinked at him stupidly for a moment, trying to figure out what he was getting at and why he was asking. Frowning at him, Hermione nodded slowly.

"I… yes…" she admitted softly. "I would."

His brow furrowed at that and he narrowed his eyes on her slightly.

"Wear that dress," he said abruptly, changing the subject as he pointed to one of the dresses hanging in her closet.

Hermione looked toward it, trailing her eyes over it. It was a deep shade of blue, almost navy, with some intricate embroidery over the bodice. It wasn't especially formal or fancy, though she rather liked the full Elizabethan style skirt and the dipping cleavage line.

"Any particular reason?" she asked, wondering if he was feeling quite well when he seemed to be acting so oddly.

"Don't bother with undergarments," he told her, and Hermione's eyebrows rose all over again.

"You won't shag me, but you're encouraging me not to bother with knickers?" she asked. "Are you feeling alright, Snape?"

He smirked. "I am merely thinking of my brethren, Miss Granger," he said. "More than one of them was asking after your well-being yesterday."

"You're not setting me up to walk into an orgy, are you?" Hermione asked, startled. "I don't think I'm up for one, just yet. Despite recently ending up in showers with more than one partner at a time more often than is strictly acceptable."

"Draco might still be out of sorts after the full moon, but I believe that Rabastan, Regulus, and Thorfinn are all rather keen to see you again," he informed her coolly and Hermione frowned.

"Regulus?" she asked.

He quirked at eyebrow at her tone.

"The man has been living as my cat for four years, Snape," she reminded him. "I'm not about to… to… shag him."

"I doubt he would be in cat form at the time," he frowned at her.

"You _want_ me to shag Regulus?"

"I doubt you'll be able to resist for long," Severus said quietly. "He is… persuasive. And he and Rabastan are…friendly."

"Bass is fucking him?" she asked. "Does he… swing both ways?"

"I think, when speaking in terms of sexual preference about the brethren, it is safe to say that we are all rather fluid, Mina. Even you."

"You mean because I'll likely have to shag other women at some stage, though I'm not particularly attracted to girls?"

"Precisely. The male to female ratio among the brethren is skewed unfavourably and the effect of revels and lust potions means that most of us have fucked our friends a time or two."

"Even you?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Severus nodded his head slowly.

"Oh… um… who?" she asked nosily, wondering if he would tell her.

Snape furrowed his brow at her.

"Most of them," he shrugged. "Lucius. Rodolphus. Rabastan. Regulus, before he disappeared years ago. Mulciber. Dolohov… When you have attended a revel, you have pretty much fucked everyone you know who bears the Mark."

"Oh," Hermione frowned. "I mean… I know that Rowle mentioned the other day that it worked that way, and that you'd said it happened. I guess I just kind of imagined that there would be more women at these things. Like, the number of female Death Eaters is lower, but surely with the rule of threes nonsense and the other women captured and raped at such things there would be plenty of…"

She trailed off when he smiled at her in a way that was almost pitying.

"You make it very obvious that you have never participated in group sex and never taken lust potion, Hermione," he told her, surprising her with his continued use of her real first name.

"Yes, well, I'm lucky that way," she sniffed.

"You are," he agreed. "The effect of lust potion is to make us all mindless. It retracts all inhibition and fills the drinker with an unbearable need to copulate. The warm hole one sinks his cock into is rarely questioned as long as it's warm and it feels good. There isn't room for thought about the owner of that hole being male or female, willing or unwilling, friend or enemy."

"Wouldn't that be… terribly messy?" she frowned.

"It is," he nodded. "Revels are… not pleasant."

"Then why does the Dark Lord throw them?" Hermione asked. "Surely if no one actually wants to participate, it would be easier to simply not give everyone lust potion?"

"He thinks it is a means to bond with the brethren," Severus shrugged. "You're more likely to think of your fellow Death Eaters fondly if you've fucked them stupid. Think of your opinions of Draco, Rabastan, and Thorfinn. As early as five days ago, you've never have thought to protect them from a stray spell without an ulterior motive."

"You think I would now?" she asked, frowning at him.

"You would with Draco," he pointed out. "Rabastan, I am not sure about, since he is the one we need the most for the end to the Dark Lord's reign… And Rowle…"

"I wouldn't protect them from the Order," she told him. "Objective and unemotional, remember?"

"They would protect you," he told her quietly. "All of them."

Hermione frowned, not liking the way he seemed so intent on pointing out that they would likely become some of the most important people in her life.

"You… want me to protect them?" she asked.

"I want you to be seen doing so," he nodded. "You need to fit in, Mina. There might very well be years that you will spend in their presence with little or no contact from the likes of Potter or Weasley. They _will_ become your friends in addition to being your lovers. Draco and Rabastan, in particular, as they will one day sire your children. You will have no choice but to protect them and to care for their wellbeing. It is in your nature, and when you have children, you will likely do all you can to protect those children from living without their fathers."

Hermione stopped midway through stripping out of her tights as his words registered. She hadn't thought of that. In her mind, she'd logically known that she might end up mothering their children, but it hadn't occurred to her that when the time came that she would betray them all, they would likely go to prison and her children would be left fatherless. Stricken, Hermione lifted her eyes to Snape's, and he stared at her seriously in return, realising she hadn't thought of it, and obviously knowing it would be a problem.

"But… I…. Oh, dear," she whispered.

Snape's mouth twisted at her utterance and Hermione frowned at him.

"I wish we hadn't concocted the story that I was your daughter rather than your lover, Snape," she admitted quietly. "When this is all over, you and I might very well walk away free… but they… _if_ they survive… they will be imprisoned. Any children I have will be…"

He nodded slowly, and Hermione realised how hopeless it all was.

"I… can't I just keep taking the contraceptive and tell everyone I'm barren?" she whispered. "I can't… I can't face someday being a single mother and inflicting a fatherless existence on my children, Severus. I can't do it. I won't. No child deserves to grow up without a mother and a father."

"Unfortunately, Mina," he said quietly as he slowly stepped backward in the doorway, apparently intending to leave her alone. "That is just one of the many costs of war."

With that said, he nodded to her and Disapparated with a sharp crack. Left alone, Hermione sat on the end of her bed and put her face in her hands. She wanted to cry all over again. She couldn't do this. She just wanted to go home. She wanted her mother. She wanted to be with Harry and Ron and Ginny. She wanted to claw the darkness from her arm and from inside her soul. She wanted…

She couldn't do it. She couldn't willingly go into this mess intending to get pregnant and intending to one day rob her children of their fathers when they were imprisoned. She might not like the men who might knock her up, and they might not be very good fathers to whatever children she birthed… but she couldn't bring a child into the world _knowing_ that if she got her way, their fathers would be locked up and never allowed to see them again. Growing up with Harry had showed her just what it did to a child to grow up missing his parents. And she knew she wouldn't be a very good mother.

"Get it together, Granger," she muttered to herself, pulling her own hair and trying to push this newest bombshell away.

She just wanted to bury all of her problems under a cascade of orgasms. She wanted to forget. She wanted to stop bloody thinking for a few minutes. Getting to her feet, once more, Hermione flicked her wand over her body, using cleaning charms to freshen herself rather than bother with a shower. She would just get sweaty again when she got to the Manor. Yanking her dress on over her head, Hermione darted a glance at her appearance, not even caring that she looked tired and a little dishevelled. It would help sell the story that she'd been too exhausted to make an appearance yesterday.

As soon as she'd stomped her feet into her boots, Hermione Disapparated to Malfoy Manor with a sharp crack.

Outside the looming structure, Hermione glared at the sky, noting idly that it was storming heavily in Wiltshire. For all she knew, it'd been storming heavily in Spinner's End, too. She hadn't bothered to look out the window all day. She simply didn't care.

Hissing at the rain that began pattering down upon her, dampening her dress and soaking into her coffee curls, Hermione stomped up the drive toward the lavish mansion, noting idly that many of the windows glowed with soft light. She wondered idly how many people might be inside, not really in the mood to face a crowd. Suspecting Draco would be out of commission, she supposed that her seduction of someone ought to begin with Rabastan.

She wondered if he was home. Did he even live in Malfoy Manor? She didn't know. Snorting to herself, Hermione shook her head, thinking that she truly must be turning into a despicable person that she had been shagging and planned to continue shagging a man she knew literally nothing about other than that he was a Death Eater, and an Animagus, and that he'd been to Azkaban for many long years. Letting herself in through the front door without bothering to knock, Hermione disregarded her usual practice of manners upon arriving for a purpose not a meeting they'd been summoned to. If Lucius or Narcissa Malfoy wanted to think her rude, they could just take it up with her later.

Strolling through the halls once she was inside, Hermione scanned her eyes over the lavish décor and rolled her eyes to herself, thinking unkindly that all the nice things in the world wouldn't make up for being rubbish people. Heading for the drawing room, knowing people tended to congregate there, Hermione listened hard to the sound of voices. She heard soft utterances coming from off to her left, in the direction away from the drawing room and Hermione followed the sound curiously, not caring that she was technically snooping.

She froze a few short minutes later when she came across Antonin Dolohov and a woman she didn't recognise. Dolohov had his wand drawn and they looked to be having a heated argument.

They hadn't noticed her, she was relieved to see, and Hermione frowned when curiosity dug its claws into her.

"I've told you a thousand times, Alecto, I'm not interested in you. The Dark Lord's order to marry will not change my mind so much that I will consider you," Dolohov warned the witch and Hermione raised one eyebrow.

The witch in question was… Hermione tipped her head to one side. She supposed the woman was pretty. She couldn't really tell. She was certainly no stunner, like Bellatrix had obviously once been, or like Narcissa still was. But neither was she ugly. She was traditionally beautiful, Hermione decided. She had fine, almost elfin features, the likes of which Hermione had seen in the books she'd read as a child about fairies and pixies and elves, rather than those of the magical world she'd come to know. The witch's cheekbones were sharp, her eyes heavily lidded, dark blue and alluring, her lips full. She had a cute little button nose and she was petite to the point of looking almost fragile. Her hair was dark, and Hermione couldn't help thinking when she noted the waviness of the long locks, that they rather had a bit in common while she wore her current face without it's blemishes or flaws.

"Why do you fight this, Antonin?" the woman – Alecto -asked, and Hermione almost recoiled at the sound of her voice. She had a high pitched, terribly girly voice that made Hermione feel strangely uncomfortable. "You and I have had this chemistry so long, and you _know_ we are compatible."

"We are not," Dolohov said, his Russian accent thick, his tone scornful. "You are an airhead."

"How dare you!" the woman hissed, her eyes flashing hatefully. "You think just because you're a Curse Breaker – or were, before you stupidly got yourself shipped off to Azkaban – that everyone else is thick. I was smart enough to evade arrest, unlike you. Don't you dare stand there and sneer down your nose that you're better than me just because you know how to get fancy with a few curses."

Hermione rolled her eyes, turning away to leave them to it, uncharitably thinking that they were both idiots. If they heard her footsteps as she walked away, they paid her no mind, because Hermione heard a string of Russian curses leave Dolohov's lips in retort before Alecto sneered something back in her annoying voice. Searching the Manor once more to see who else she might turn up, Hermione made her way in the direction of Draco's bedroom. She wasn't really in the mood to put up with a grabby, mindless werewolf, but the route to his bedroom would lead her past many of the most frequented rooms, so hopefully she might come across someone on the way.

Sighing to herself and carding her hand through her curls as she rounded a corner, Hermione walked right into someone and her wand jerked up automatically when strong hands took hold of her tightly.

"Mina?" a low voice asked, and Hermione's eyes darted up to a handsome face with curious green eyes.

"Bass," Hermione said, a smile slipping across her face unbidden.

"When did you get here?" he asked her, tipping his head to one side and regarding her in that unsettling way of his.

"Just now," Hermione smiled. "I was looking for you."

"Oh?" he asked, arching one eyebrow.

Hermione opened her mouth, intent on telling him that she'd very much appreciate being shoved up against the nearest flat surface and hard-fucked until she couldn't walk. Before she could utter a word, movement behind him caught her eye and Hermione spotted Regulus, Thorfinn, Rodolphus, Lucius, Mulciber, and the Dark Lord in the hallway.

"Ooh," she said, blinking and stepping back out of Rabastan's grip. "The gang's all here."

"Gang?" Rowle chuckled, lifting one eyebrow and looking amused.

"Good afternoon, my Lord," Hermione said politely, stepping around Rabastan and curtseying before the Dark Lord.

"Miss Graziana-Snape," the Dark Lord inclined his head, his terrible red eyes tracing over her. "Are you feeling quite well?"

Hermione was a little startled by the question and found herself wondering where they'd all been off too.

"Still tired, my Lord," Hermione admitted truthfully. "I am perhaps a little young to expend so much energy and magic as I did during the raid."

Voldemort blinked at her for a moment, his brow furrowing.

"How old are you, again?" Mulciber spoke up from further back in the group.

"Erm… sixteen," Hermione lied.

"Bloody hell," she heard Thorfinn mutter, catching the way he ran his hand through his thick golden mane while his cheeks cut pink, clearly having forgotten her youth, even if she was actually eighteen. If they thought she was still underage by wizarding law, they would be more likely to excuse her absence.

"Depleted yourself during the raid, did you?" the Dark Lord asked, and Hermione was loath to admit such a thing.

"Almost, my Lord," Hermione said. "I apologise for my absence yesterday."

She blinked in surprise when he waved her words away dismissively.

"Is Severus with you?" he asked.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "He asked me to pass on his apologies. He's working on a potion that needs continued stirring for the next few hours. Lust potion, I think… He said he'd be along later."

Voldemort's left eye twitched and Hermione felt him trying to penetrate her mind. Blinking and supposing she ought to allow it, lest they grow suspicious, she leaned forward a little, thinking very hard about watching Snape brewing, as she'd done the other day.

Satisfied when he'd viewed the memory, Voldemort withdrew once more.

"No matter," he said. "And you were looking for Rabastan, I hear?"

"Erm… yes," Hermione admitted, darting a glance at Rabastan when the wizard stepped toward her again. "Though it seems I've caught you all in the middle of something. I'd hate to interrupt."

"Why don't you come along?" Voldemort suggested. "I'm sure a woman's perspective might come in handy, and Bella is indisposed."

"How unfortunate," Hermione said, though she didn't mean it for a moment.

Rabastand snorted and Rodolphus eyeballed her hatefully. Voldemort, on the other hand, smirked. It was clear to her that he enjoyed her snark and that he thought the dissention between her and Bella amusing.

"Where are we going?" she asked of Rowle curiously when they all continued on down the hall, back the way she'd come.

He glanced down at her sideways, clearly concerned by her daring and Hermione looked up to meet his gaze. She couldn't help noticing that though his eye was no longer swollen shut, it was still bruised.

"The dungeons," he told her quietly.

"Ah, Antonin. Alecto. Excellent," Voldemort said when they came upon the pair.

Hermione snorted when she watched the two of them break apart, apparently in the middle of a heated snog. She couldn't help but laugh at Dolohov's blush while Alecto looked like the cat who got the canary, clearly pleased with herself to have managed to wrangle the stubborn Russian into snogging her when he'd been so insistent on telling her to fuck off.

"My Lord," Dolohov bowed his head respectfully.

"Come," Voldemort said. "Alecto, you too. You and Mina can provide a female's perspective on the matter of the dungeons."

Alecto perked up, her eyes darting through the group to settle on Hermione in such a way that Hermione almost wanted to run for it. The witch didn't look wicked or spiteful, as though she might attack her. No, the witch looked positively excited to see her and Hermione got the feeling she was perky.

Hermione _hated_ perky.

"Mina!" the witch spoke in her annoyingly girlish voice. "We meet at last. You were a little distracted the last time we interacted."

She smoothed her hand over her Dark Mark and Hermione almost shuddered at the memory.

"And… you are?" Hermione drawled, deciding it would be best to imitate Severus as much as possible in the hopes of deterring the woman's apparent attempts to be friends.

"Oh, how silly of me. Alecto Carrow, at your service," the woman said, curtseying like she's stepped right off the pages of a Jane Austen novel. Though Hermione supposed, trailing her eyes over the woman's slightly tattered seemed black dress, that if she had it would surely be a version where all was wrong in the world and Elizabeth Bennett chose to murder Mr Darcy, rather than marry him.

"Mina Graziana-Snape," Hermione said, returning the curtsey and gritting her teeth when Alecto leaned over and brushed her cheek to Hermione's in a European style of greeting.

"A pleasure. And you've met Antonin, have you?" Alecto asked, waving a hand at the Russian in a way that seemed somehow dismissive and possessive at the same time. Hermione wondered just how the woman managed _that_.

"I haven't," Hermione shook her head, privately wishing it were so.

" _Kotyonok,"_ Dolohov nodded at her, tracing his dark eyes over her in a way that might've made her uncomfortable once. Not that he did it in a manner that seemed to sexualise her. He seemed rather more like he was trying to get the measure of her and Hermione blinked, surprised.

"I am no-one's kitten, Mr Dolohov," she told him sternly, putting her hands on her hips and not about to let such a wretched man address her in such a manner. This was the bastard who'd almost killed her in the Department of Mysteries. She would _not_ allow such nonsense to slide.

"Feisty as one, and just as cute," he retorted, shrugging, his accent thick. Hermione almost swallowed her tongue in surprise. She hadn't expected the angry Russian to be so informal, or to say such a thing to her, no matter her looks.

When Alecto's mouth pinched into a frown, Hermione realised he was baiting the other woman and she almost smirked.

"Indeed," Hermione rolled her eyes, deciding to dismiss him to avoid creating any more of a fuss than she'd already made among the breath. She tossed her curls over one shoulder and very purposely turned her attention back to Alecto. "So, tell me about you, Alecto. Excited to be married and squirting out babies in short order? I'm sure Dolohov will make a fine father to your children."

A string of Russian curses followed the statement and Alecto's scowl vanished as she smiled brightly.

"I never wanted children," the woman told her in an extremely upbeat manner that was at odds with her statement, making her sound excited about admitting that following the command would go against her wishes.

Unable to help herself, Hermione began to laugh, chortling with amusement despite the fact that the Dark Lord might very well take offence.

"Way to be upbeat about it," she giggled.

Alecto gave her a big smile, though her eyes were utterly serious. "The thought of being a mother makes me want to be Avada'd."

"Well, I think that's normal," Hermione said, pretending to agree. "Does anyone in their right mind really want to destroy their body, wreck their reproductive anatomy and devote the rest of their lives to feeding, coddling, and educating demonic brats?"

"Excited to be a mother then, Mina?" Rowle laughed from beside her.

"Not for another ten years, at least," Hermione said.

"Yeah, good luck with that, girly," Mulciber snorted.

Rabastan looked over at her, raising one eyebrow and Hermione held his gaze without smiling. She wasn't kidding.

"Contribution to the continuation of our society is imperative, ladies," Lucius informed them pompously, his eyes fixed on the Dark Lord. The brown-noser.

"Quality of life trumps that, I'm sure," Hermione disagreed. "Sorry, but I'm still a child. I don't want one of my own."

"I feel the same way," Alecto said, linking her arms.

"You're hardly a child, you old hag," Dolohov told the woman snidely.

"Younger than you, grandpa," Alecto sneered in retort, surprising Hermione and making her laugh again.

Dolohov cursed some more in Russian.

"Gotta say, Princess," Rowle piped up. "Not real comfortable with you calling yourself a child after what we did the other night."

Hermione smirked.

"How old are you anyway?" she asked, enjoying the way Rabastan shot them another look. He didn't look jealous, but he was clearly listening to her interactions with the rest of the brethren,

"Twenty-two," he told her.

"That's not even that big a gap. I mean, if you were as old as Dolohov…."

" _Kotyonok,_ I am not above taking your over my knee like the child you claim to be," the Russian warned her, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Must all of you constantly bicker?" Rodolphus wanted to know. "You're all acting like children."

Alecto giggled, catching Hermione's eyes before exaggeratedly sneering and mimicking the elder wizard. Hermione had no clue who this woman was or where she'd come from, but she couldn't help thinking that if she had to get along with these people, at least she might have an ally in Carrow.

They descended through the Manor in silence after that, the Dark Lord leading the way, and Hermione traced her eyes over the stonework, noting that the Manor had clearly been added to over the years. The deeper they descended, the quieter everyone grew, and Hermione realised it was because of the sobbing when it began echoing in the halls. They'd reached the dungeons, she realised, and the people inside were _not_ happy about their incarceration. Not that she blamed them.

The cells were overflowing, Hermione noted, and she looked on in horror when they reached the first long hall of prisoners, all of them children. Alecto dropped her arm at the sight and Hermione clenched her fists together. She knew she needed to be detached and objective. She needed to pretend she didn't care. She needed not to care because, sweet fucking Merlin, she was going to ball her eyes out all over again at the sight they made.

Most of the children were dressed in their pyjamas, huddled together for warmth in the freezing stone cells. A few clutched teddy bears and stuffed toys they must've been holding when they'd been snatched from their beds. Many were dirty, their clothes and their faces smeared with mud, ash, or filth. Worse still, many of them were smeared with blood. Some looked like they might've messed themselves, in fear or desperation, Hermione couldn't tell.

She wanted to run to the gates and set them free. She wanted to turn her wand on the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters surrounding her and kill every single one of them for daring to treat anyone like this, let alone scared and defenceless children.

From the way the kids all shrank back at the sight of them, Hermione knew they were scared they'd be hurt or killed. She knew the sight of Voldemort with his terrible red eyes must be horrifying for them. When she felt warm fingers prying open her fist, Hermione glanced down at her hands, realising that Rowle had stepped closer to her. He unfurled her hand carefully before sliding his fingers between hers, squeezing her hand tight enough to make it ache and Hermione knew in a heartbeat from the strength of the grip alone that he was as disgusted by this as she was.

"As you can see," Voldemort said apathetically. "They are pathetic. Some have already succumbed to their weakness. What are we to do?"

"Do, my Lord?" Rodolphus asked.

"Yes, Rodolphus. Do. What do we do with them all? Confound it, where is Severus when I need him? Blithering idiots, all of you."

"My lord?" Hermione spoke up, ignoring the way Rowle squeezed her hand in warning.

"Mina?" the Dark Lord asked, turning toward her curiously.

Hermione noted that Rabastan's eyes widened slightly and he looked worried, obviously expecting her to say something that would get her in trouble.

"Begging your pardon, my Lord, but you need to let them go," Hermione said sternly.

"Release them?" he scoffed.

"Yes, my Lord," Hermione said. "Primarily because we do not have the time, the food, or the resources to effectively keep them. They are freezing to death down here. They're probably starving. And they are just children. They pose no threat to the cause. In addition to that, these kids are practically an entire generation worth of wizarding societies future. If they are left in here, they will all die. After the blows we dealt the world during the raid, we cannot afford that kind of loss to the population."

"Most of the are mudbloods," Mulciber piped up.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Even mudbloods have their uses, my Lord. We haven't the room or the resources to keep them, and we have no use for them. They serve no purpose sitting in these cells. The same goes for the men we took hostage. I know it seems madness to simply release them, but you must do so."

"Why?" Voldemort asked, looking morbidly curious. "It would be easier to kill them. They have been held prisoner. To release them would likely spur them to attack."

"If you kill them all, my Lord, there will be no one left to run our world. The brethren are here, and the scale of our attack will draw the other nations to investigate. It will no longer be safe, or wise, for us to be seen running things. In addition, there are not enough of us to handle the tasks all of these captives usually perform. Who will run the shops? Who will see to the post? Who handles buildings and maintenance and farming and produce if we've got them all locked up. Forgive me, but I have no interest in learning how to farm the produce that finds it's way onto my dining table, my Lord. These captives are people with jobs. People who provide a service to this world that means that all of us live comfortably. All the money in the world won't buy you books or potions or medicine or healthcare if the people selling, making or offering these services are all locked up in here."

"You would just have me set them all free?" Voldemort asked.

"Keep the women," Hermione shrugged. "You need prisoners to keep the rest of them in line to prevent an uprising. You need to engineer the next generation of your followers. You don't currently need or particularly want these kids or their fathers. Let them all go. Let them slave for the world you mean to rule. They are useless to you in here."

"And the women?" Voldemort asked.

"You mean to use them as the incubators to birth you an army, yes?" Hermione asked.

"Severus has been keeping you well informed," Voldemort noted dryly.

"Should I not be, my Lord?" Hermione raised an eyebrow and Rowle squeezed her hand in warning once more.

"What does my intention for them matter?" he wanted to know, disregarding her question.

"I assume the women are all crammed in cells the same as these kids, yes? If you free the kids and the men, there will be more room for all the women. Until a better system can be established, it would be wisest to separate the women better if you intend to have them all falling pregnant. Pregnancy is hard on a woman's body. She needs food. Comfort. Warmth. Safety. If you wish to effectively have a new generation born into this world without complications, you will need to ensure the women are in good enough health to grow the children, and you will need a means of tracking which kid belongs to whom. You can't just have every bastard fucking the same one and not knowing who had fathered the child. That will lead to inbreeding when the kids are all half-siblings and will devastate the gene pool. This needs planning, not just mindless fucking. One cell per woman would be most effective."

"You are… alarmingly clinical, Miss Snape," Lucius informed her, eyeing her like she was some kind of monster. As though these weren't the dungeons inside _his_ home.

"I am logical," she replied evenly. "Unless you simply wish to put an end to wizard-kind within Britain, you need to release these children and the men, in addition to any women too old to conceive, or any who are barren. They will just take up space and be in the way. Your goal is an army. You cannot raise an army if you've got too many mouths to feed."

Voldemort moved toward her quickly, and Hermione flinched when he stopped directly in front of her, close enough that she could watch the minute flarings of his slitted nostrils.

"How alarmingly like Severus you are turning out to be, Mina Snape," he murmured to her.

Hermione trembled when he reached out and cupped her cheek in a manner that was almost fond.

"You will be in charge of overseeing the breeding program, I think," he informed her while Hermione tried very hard to ignore the horrid flare of magic inside her Dark Mark at his touch.

"Yes, my Lord," she whispered, trying for a little fervidity to better sell that she was a devoted servant to his cause. "Thank you, my Lord."

He smiled, and Hermione fought the urge to shudder.

"Rabastan. Rodolphus. See to it that all of the children and the men are released. Warn them that any attempts to join to Order of the Phoenix or to aid Potter will result in their mothers and their wives being killed."

"My Lord?" Alecto spoke up hesitantly. "Might it be alright if we pair the children with their fathers?"

Voldemort curled his lip, lowering his hand from Hermione's face and turning toward the witch.

"You care what becomes of these brats?"

"No, my Lord," Alecto shook her head. "But any without family left will need homes and someone to see to them. I know you already planned to instigate a system for raising those born thanks to the breeding program via a fostering system. Perhaps the orphans would make a fine experiment while we begin growing the babies – a trial run, as it were."

"Or a fine addition to Greyback's ranks if no one will take them," Rabastan spoke up. "You know he prefers them young, my Lord."

Voldemort looked around the room, frowning at them all and obviously baffled by their suggestions. Hermione supposed it must seem odd to one so heartless that they would bother with such suggestions – that they would _care_ what might happen to these poor children, despite their having taken them prisoner in the first place.

"It would be horrible to see them shunted into an orphanage, my Lord," Hermione said quietly, daring to draw his mind toward his own upbringing.

His eyes flashed in her direction and Hermione spotted the way on of his fists clenched. Ah. So, he _did_ still have a soul in there somewhere.

"If it matters so much to you, Alecto, you see to their pairings and you oversee the reunions of fathers and children. Any who have no one left will be your responsibility to home as you see fit. The brethren will assist you in escorting them all wherever they need to go."

"They'll need their wands returned when they're released, my Lord," Rowle pointed out.

"Deal with it," Voldemort hissed, obviously less than thrilled with the turn of events and the amount of work that might go into cleaning up this mess he'd created.

"Right," Rowle muttered, squeezing Hermione's hand again when Voldemort turned away once more and stormed off down the hall in the direction they'd come. "Well…. I guess we've all got work to do."

Hermione sighed, supposing he was right.


End file.
